The Angel's Heir
by Snorpenbass
Summary: AU (not slash). Darla is staked in the 70's instead of the 90's, and resurrected not long after by a certain law firm. Thus, things follow differently, and to avoid losing a champion's soul, the Powers merge it with another...
1. Genesis I

**Disclaimers: **I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I make no money from this story.

* * *

**The Angel's Heir**

** Genesis**

.

"_Well I was born an original sinner.  
I was borne from original sin.  
And if I had a dollar bill  
For all the things I've done  
There'd be a mountain of money  
Piled up to my chin"_

-Eurythmics, "Missionary Man"

.

**Los Angeles, 1972.**

It was ironic, really. She'd spent eight years cooped up underground with her dear old daddy sire, plotting and planning, and when he finally sent her to pick up Luke at the LA harbor, some hunters spotted her.

The ship Luke had been on was _delayed_. Most likely the dumb bastard had started draining everyone on board, doing the Spirit of Whitby thing like so many others, not that it mattered. All she knew was, the damn boat was late, Luke was a no-show, and about ten or twelve really pissed off vampire hunters were chasing her through Battery Park in pickup trucks.

She really needed to get with the modern times herself. Maybe buy a gun? Or just take one after eating the gunstore clerk. Whatever. A vampire who didn't go for the fancy-shmancy martial arts or swordplay? It'd shock the hell out of any Slayer looking to pummel her. Right before she killed them.

But that was kind of moot if she couldn't get away from these locals with crosses, stakes and crossbows, not to mention the army surplus flamethrowers and holy water squirt bottles.

She cowered in a storm drain in one of the many concrete rivers they had in the town. They'd set one of those moving picture deals in here. She'd watched it the night after she came back to America, giggling at the silly premise while snacking on the popcorn girl. The one with the huge ants that reminded her of P!'Strxn demons. What did they call these things, aqueducts? Made for good hiding places for demons and girls like her. Nothing like the real deal in Italy, of course. Those things had lasted a thousand years. These would probably be overgrown in a century.

Damn it! How the hell did they _know_?

...no, wait, that was on Luke's oversized head again. Eat a whole cargo ship full of people and you sure as hell caught the eyes and ears of hunters. All they had to do was find out where the ship was gonna dock, and stake it out. No pun intended. And there she had shown up, bold as brass in her lovely winter coat in sweltering summer LA, and every single hunter on the docks must have gone 'Bingo!'...

But it was such a _nice _coat! The shop girl she ate when she grabbed it had been sweet, the coat itself had served her well. Breakfast at Tiffany's indeed. Though it had been the girl who was named Tiffany, not the shop. Man, the things you reminisced about when running for your unlife.

"Got her! She's in the tunnels!"

Shit.

She looked around. Great _hiding_ places. Not so good for running through. Especially since she was pretty sure at least half the demons that lived down here hated vampires. Question was, would she risk it? Possible death through pissed off slime demons or way worse, or certain death by fire and stake and...

She turned and ran into the tunnels.

.

Ten minutes later, she was really regretting it. She wasn't sure what kind of demon this was, but he was big and fast and not very fond of her. The horns and spikes on the shoulders suggested...what? Built for close quarters.

"Okay, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here, but I mean it, I just want to go by, nothing else. I could bring you food?"

The demon snarled. "Haaalf-breeeeeeed..."

Oh, great. One of those purity nuts. "Sure. Okay. And this half-breed just wanna be out of your hair. Horns. Look, there are hunters after me, and I just wanna outrun them. Is there anything or anyone I can bring you to make you happy? Money? A baby? Kittens?"

"Yooouuu caaaan dieeeeee..."

Shit.

She dodged the first swipe, and the second. The third, barely, but the long spikes on the sides of his arms suddenly elongated by at least six inches and ripped open her blouse and gut in passing. Cursing, she leaped back, trying to get away. Okay, _not_ so good a plan after all. He made another pass, and her coat was torn neatly in half, followed by stinging pain in her back. She hissed out a curse as she finally managed to escape out into the side tunnel, and was running again.

She had _liked_ that coat.

.

By the time she saw the cold blue light of night again, her back was on fire and the cut on her abdomen was ice. Poison. The damn thing had poison spikes! Now she _really_ had to rag William about his name choice. Possibly not. Dru was scaring even _her_ these days. Make fun of Spike in front of his lady love and face the possibility of waking up under Drusilla's tender mercies.

She shivered. Not because of the imagery, but because of the poison churning its way slowly through her blood.

Vampires had circulation. They had to, to get the blood they drank out into their system. They didn't need to breathe so the lungs kind of atrophied after a short while, sure, they could talk and smoke and yell because the damage it did healed near instantly, but anything more advanced than that was a no-go. There was this one guy in the '30s, in Paris. Black guy, turned on leave during the Great War. Trumpet player. He'd cursed a storm about not being able to play any more, first time he tried to toot that horn after being turned, his lungs burst and left him wheezing for weeks. What was his name again, Trap? Trudy? Something starting with 'Tr'.

Unfortunately, circulation meant some poisons actually worked. Sedatives. Drugs. Poisons. This one felt...bad.

She looked down at her belly. Aw, hell. The edges of the cut were smoldering, blackened and growing ever so slowly. And she was definitely-

Whoo. Woozy. She had to...uh, she had to...something. Couldn't remember what. Run? Yes, running would be good.

Something stung her shoulder, and she glanced down at it. Oh, just a crossbow bolt. Nothing to worry about. Half a foot to the left and down, sure, she'd be dust, but in the shoulder? Pssht.

...oh, wait, there was a thin metal wire attached to it?

Roughly thirty thousand volts of current sent her into spasms, dropping her to the ground. And then they reeled her in. Like a fish.

Damn these modern times. One of them raised his crossbow again, reloaded with a wooden bolt this time, but it wasn't _him_ she was worried about, it was the guy _next_ to him with the _flamethrower_, and then there was fire and smoke and the stink of napalm and she _screamed_, she screamed because she _hated _pain, she'd let Heinrich turn her in the first place _because_ she hated it, and then everything was nothing.

And the heavens shook.

.

* * *

.

**1978. Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles Branch.**

"...and we bring our attention to local matters. The Exnargh clan has broken the truce with the House of Needles, Currie, that's your case. _Deal_ with it. But the House of Needles is an important part of the firm's clientele, so try to use subtlety this time."

"Yessir."

"Manners! Boy of the hour. I have a fun one for you, resurrection deal. Client is anonymous, which means high on the ladder. Needs to bring back a dusted vampire, use her as leverage."

"Sir? You can't resurrect a vampire, I mean, it's possible if it's a really old master, but-"

"Client specified alive, not undead. So just drag the soul back. The disorientation and pain from the demon memories should make her pliable to convincing, don't you think? Handle it. Now, anyone want to check on why William the Bloody was spotted in New York?"

"Sir, I investigated that already, turns out there's a Slayer there. Looks like he's going for another one."

"...interesting. Well, keep an eye on him."

"Yessir."

"Now, if there's no further business, I call this meeting adjourned."

.

There was pain. Light, then pain. She had been...happy? Content. Blissful. And then there had been cold, hard stone floor beneath her and men in robes and a man in a suit and oh God she had killed all those people, she had murdered so many people and they were telling her she was special, so very special, and she couldn't, couldn't _see_, couldn't _feel_ because the pain was everywhere and she had to be dead and in Hell, this had to be Hell, she had been in Heaven and now...

...and she deserved it, didn't she?

The young man smiled at her. "Please, relax. We just want to keep you safe. My name is Holland. Holland Manners. Would you like some clothes?"

She nodded.

Dorothea 'Darla' Carruthers, whore, demon concubine, monster, was alive again. With all the consequences of such a thing.

.

After a few weeks, they let her go. Set her free. Every now and then she had to call Holland, but for the most part she just had to travel to various major cities and walk around in the daytime and some nights, and she got paid a hefty sum to live on.

It went on like that for some time, right up until the shakes and the pissing blood began. She remembered that. She remembered the fever and the pain and the craziness, and the hideous face leaning over her and asking if she wanted to be taken away from all that disease and pain. She just hadn't expected to experience it again.

That was when she realized the people who brought her back to life were evil. Because she called Holland, and he talked a lot, and she knew that tone of voice. His utter lack of surprise hidden by fake surprise and shock.

_They had known all along._

So they brought her back dying, just to...what? She knew what they were having her do. She was bait for someone. She'd acted bait for sailors looking to grab some unlucky bastard to fill out their crews more than once, had even acted bait for cutthroats in alleys. Back when she was human...the first time.

Needless to say, she was now more than a little embittered at the people who dragged her out of Heaven.

And the worst part was, the worst part...was, where did this leave her? She had been a monster for over three hundred years, then died due to a monumental fuck-up on her blood brother Luke's behalf, then brought back by what had seemed to be nice people...

...and they were far worse than she had _ever_ been. Because at least she had been a soulless monster. These people technically still had theirs, even if they were sold.

So she wasn't the big bad. Never was. Heinrich was an amateur in comparison to these people. _They_ manipulated entire demon clans and brought down nations, all Heinrich had to his name was a small cult of vampires and some mind control powers. Well, she had them too, though dormant. All of Nest's children had it. Dru was the only one who had ever actually _used_ it, and Luke, even if his was just used to subconsciously weaken his prey. He acted as if his strength was purely physical, but it was a lie.

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. She was alive, and dying. Soon the really bad symptoms would rise, and she would be begging for release. She might even let someone turn her, again. Better an unlife free of disease and guilt than dying with the memories of being a beast in a pretty face. Or so she told herself. Right up until she turned a corner into an alley and found the last man she had ever expected to see.

She stared at him. Hair bedraggled, filthy. Face pale and drawn and thin. Rags for clothes. But those brown eyes, that nose, that mouth, those cheekbones...face like an-

"...Angelus?"

.

She dragged him home. He complained, weakly, and even in his sorry state he should have been able to push her away, but he didn't. Didn't when she deliberately invited him into her apartment, didn't when he sniffed her and goggled at the scent of blood and life this gave him, didn't when she sat him down on the couch and went to bring him something to drink.

The local butcher's gave her an odd look, but she told him it was for black soup. Probably he wasn't used to customers buying pig's blood in broad daylight.

Funny how disgusting it was to see someone drink animal blood. And not for the reasons she would have thought so before. As a vampire, it would have been demeaning, acting like some common beast looking for mere sustenance. As a human, it was the very act of actually drinking _blood_. Screw the vampire novels and movies, blood might be life but there was nothing really sexy about the _drinking_ thereof. Talking, reading, writing about, oh yeah. The real thing? Kind of pathetic. Like having a nose bleed and feeling it trickle down your throat when you tipped your head back. If someone thought that was hot, she pitied them.

He stared at her. Mumbled something.

"What?"

He flinched. "Sorry. Forgot that you...you're human now. How is that?"

"You mean how is it, or how am I human?"

Angelus stared at her. "...both."

"Scary. Horrifying. I was catatonic for a few weeks after they brought me back, remembering all the horrors I had done. Most of it with you. As for _how_ I'm human...not entirely sure. There was a ritual. I was dead, see. Some hunters got to me in LA. And this law firm brought me back."

"Law firm?"

She laughed at the puzzled look on his face. "Lawyers are a lot scarier than either of us _ever_ were. At least _we_ did things in _person_. These people just sign some papers and contracts, and atrocities are done."

He nodded, probably not getting it. Not with the brains, her Angelus. Not unless it came to torture and mind games. "So why are you doing this?"

She stared at him for a while, then shrugged. "Because you look as horrible as I feel."

.

Life with a cranky souled vampire was...weird. But fun, after a while. She cleaned him up, got him proper clothes. Told him Wolfram & Hart were as evil as they came, and probably were waiting for her to bring him to them. She wasn't going to. He offered to help her, but seeing him like this had convinced her _everything_ would be better than being undead again.

After a few weeks, after a night out of just seeing the sights, she had kissed him. And it had felt good. And he had smiled, for the first time since she saw him again.

A few months after that, they were in bed together. It was beautiful. Precious. She was dying, but at least she would have this. Actual love. And she knew he felt it too, heard him whisper her name, felt him shudder above her as they both climaxed together, and then...

...it was her first moment of true happiness since she had been reborn.

And the next morning, he grinned evilly at her and leaned in for the bite, and she knew he was gone.

.

* * *

.

**Los Angeles, December 31st, 1979. **

"Enyos, he's coming!"

It had taken them months. Months of hard work and research and translating and digging up ancient crones and withered old men who still remembered the old ways, but it had paid off. The curse was ready.

Unfortunately, he _knew_. Somehow, the demon knew. He had killed half the American branch of the clan – and poor Janna, her entire family wiped out in a heartbeat while she was at her girl scout camp – and now he had tracked them down before the ritual was complete.

If only _finding_ these damn orbs wasn't so difficult. Some fool occult store owner had sold it as a fortune telling device!

But they needed _time_. Time they barely had.

He turned to where Krista was chanting, her eyes slowly blackening from the dark magics she was channeling, she would pay for that later, he suspected. Disturbing her now was not a good thing. But there would be no later unless they could keep the demon out.

So he started to chant too.

A counter, a shielding spell. Davos outside would be dead within moments, but Krista would live long enough to finish the spell. And if Enyos received permanent damage to his internal organs due to being awful at magic, so be it. A small price to pay.

He tried not to let the screams from Davos get to him.

Or the way Angelus chopped through the door with a fire ax, grinning. "Heeeere's _Johnny_!"

And then dropped the ax, screaming as the curse took hold once more.

.

* * *

.

**Aftermath**

Angel found Darla in the back streets in the slummier areas of San Diego, eating a banker whom she had probably enticed in her school girl outfit. The fight was brief. She cursed his name, he told her he loved her but she had to die, and then he staked her.

And he cried bloody tears, because he knew he could never love like that again. Not unless he wanted Angelus free once more.

And in an alley not far away, a short man in the height of fashion peered at the small globe in his hand. It glowed softly. He smiled, and nodded to himself.

It was mean, to be sure. And cruel. But they needed a way to make Angel fight the good fight, and if that entailed capturing and using his unborn son's soul before it evaporated into the aether? So be it.

But he had to hide it. A soul unused, a soul unspent was a soul lost. And this was a _good_ soul. Weak of heart but empowered and good. Almost as good as the one he was to join it with. Things had changed, and plans high above had been thwarted. It was his job to make sure they _stayed_ thwarted. The Flower Child and her mate the Twilight One were never to walk this Earth, no matter the cost. Even if it meant doing horrible things to innocents.

Besides, this poor kid was gonna die anyway, now. He was a threat to some of the darker powers out there, and they had already marked him for infant death. Too bad for the flowery bitch that _his_ bosses had much more important plans involving the kid. Now they could even give him an upgrade to let him play out his _true_ role, without too much interference. Join it with the soul most important to the universe's continuance and make it stronger.

It was simple, really. An unborn soul was a blank slate. A person was not his soul, he was his memories and experiences combined with _a _soul. The son of Angelus and Darla was not to be used as a pawn this time. And the One Who Sees was not to be pushed aside by creatures of lesser worth this time.

Because they would be _one and the same._

Two blank souls, merged into one...

Yeah, this was gonna be a good one.

.

* * *

.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital (formerly Edna Mae Wilkins Memorial), April 10th, 1980.**

The child was stillborn. There had been crying about that. How a healthy baby boy could be stillborn in this day and age, what the hell kind of hospital was this, and they should sue. Funnily enough, not too much actual _grief_ from the husband.

And then a short guy in bad clothes had showed up, telling the doctor to look aside for a moment. Against his own will he did so, staring at the window while a flash of white light happened behind him that lit up the room, and then a baby's cries could be heard, and the strange compulsion to look away was gone. And so was the ugly man in uglier clothes.

No matter. Because a stillborn baby boy was now suddenly alive and screaming with his little face all red and angry at this world that had dragged him out of the womb.

The doctor stared at the baby, then yelled for a nurse.

Alexander Lavelle Harris was, contrary to the prognosis ten minutes ago, alive and well.


	2. Genesis II

**Sunflower Kindergarten, Sunnydale. 1985.**

"I broke the crayon."

Willow Rosenberg stared in shock. A dark-haired boy was standing by the teacher and holding out the remains of the item in question. But...but..._she_ broke it! And he knew it! He was _lying_! Lying was _bad_, mommy and daddy said so! No, _Ira_ and _Sheila_. She had to remember that. 'Mommy' and 'daddy' were...rem-nants of a pay-tree-ark-al sai-ko-so-shall siss-temm.

"I see. And what do you have to say for yourself, Alexander?"

He bowed his head and mumbled a 'sorry', to which the teacher sighed.

Then he came back and smiled at Willow. "There ya go."

She felt herself go beet red. "You told a lie!"

"Yup." He didn't seem the least bit sorry. In fact, he seemed proud!

"Buh-buh-but you shouldn't tell lies! It's bad!"

He shrugged. "Not always." Then he held out his hand. "M'name is Alexander."

She blinked, then shook it solemnly like her parents had showed her. He had pronounced it really funny-like. "Willow. What kinda name is Alsaner?"

"No, no, Ah-leh-xan-der." He was still smiling, and she liked his smile. A lot.

"Alazander."

He sighed. "Ah-leh-xan-der." She pouted, feeling the familiar tears starting to well up, and his eyes widened. "No, no, no, no, don't cry, please don't cry, crying is so of th'bad! Just, uh, call me Xander."

She swallowed a sob, and tried it, tentatively. "Xander."

"You got it!"

Grinning, she tried again. "Xander. Xander, Xander, Xander."

"Yeah!"

She felt her tummy grow warm. Okay, maybe, maybe kindergarten wouldn't be so bad after all?

Maybe...maybe she could even show him her Barbies.

.

* * *

.

**Bright Day Elementary School, Sunnydale. 1987. February.**

"You're a puke!"

"Nuh-uh, _you're_ a puke! And your balls haven't dropped!"

The older boy scrunched up and bunched up his fists. The smaller boy noticed, but didn't back down, mainly because behind him was a girl who was very close to crying because her books were all over the ground. "You take that back, _Harris_!"

Something changed. The smaller boy's brave face went away, replaced by something angry. "Don't call me that."

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, huh? Go cryin' to _mommy_?"

"Naw." Larry didn't even see the punch that hit right in the huevos rancheros, causing him to squeak and fall over. Xander blinked, surprised. "Huh. His balls _have _dropped."

"Alexander Harris, _what_ did you just _do_!?" The teacher rushed up and grabbed his arm harshly. "We do _not_ hit people here!"

"He hit Willow first!"

The teacher barely glanced over at her. "That's no excuse! You're going straight to detention, young man!"

To everyone's surprise, he didn't seem to object. Only that he would go alone. "Well, what about Larry, he's a meanie who hits girls!"

"I only saw _you _hitting _him_, Xander!" The teacher winced. "I mean, Alexander!"

"Yeah, right, 'cause you never look at him when he's doing mean things!"

"Now, that's not true." But he looked a little guilty.

"Unfair!"

He ignored the cries, dragging the boy through the halls to the detention area and plopping him down in a chair before leaving.

Xander Harris sat there for w while, then looked over at the brown-haired, big-eyed boy next to him. The boy had a very prominent nose. "Hey."

"Hey. Uh, Jesse."

"Xander. So, what're you in for?"

.

* * *

.

**Harris Residence. April.**

"...well what the hell do you _want_ with me, he can't just _disrespect_-"

"He's six years old, Tony! He's never _seen_ a real clown before!"

"I paid good money for that damn clown, and the kid just screams and screams and, and, I got a little angry, I _said_ I was _sorry_!"

Xander shut them out. Easier than shutting out the ringing in his ear.

Daddy never hit him before. No...no, he wasn't daddy. He was _Tony_. Stupid fathead Tony. You hit someone, you didn't _deserve_ names like 'daddy'.

He was sitting out by the swing da...Tony had put up years ago. It didn't work, because d...Tony sucked. Tony sucked _big _time.

"Y'know, it's not safe to be outside after dark."

Xander jumped, looking around. "Who's there!"

A shadow disentangled itself from the trees. "It's okay, I'm a friend."

"I got enough friends!"

There was a low chuckle. "Didn't say I was yours."

Xander frowned. What kind of logic was _that_? Anyway, mystery guy was wrong. "Mommy says there's nothing bad outside, that's just my imagination."

"Mommy's wrong. There's monsters out there, Xander. But there's things you can do to keep them out."

"Yeah?" This should be good.

"Never invite anyone in. Not even in daylight, no matter how nice they seem. Always keep a cross on you. If someone looks really weird, don't go over to look closer. Which would be rude if it _wasn_'_t_ a monster, so that's good advice either way." There was a pause. "Did...did your, uh, father do that?"

He knew what the man meant, the bruise on his cheek from earlier. "...I fell."

"Uh-huh." Somehow that sounded like he didn't believe it. "Look, if he...if he hits you, I could, uh, I could hit him back. Just a little."

Xander stared at the shadow. He sounded all friendly, but you never knew. "...nah. You shouldn't hit people."

"Sometimes you have to."

"Well, you shouldn't." He glared at the shadow. "Who are you?"

"I...my name is...uh, you can call me Angel."

Okay, even Xander knew that was a big fat fib. "You're no angel."

"No, I mean, that's my name. But you're right, I'm no angel."

"So, uh, you hang out in people's gardens often?"

Another chuckle. "I, yeah. Kind of. I lurk."

"Why?"

"Well, sometimes I like keeping watch over people."

Xander frowned. "...that's kinda creepy."

"It is?" Pause. "Huh. Yeah, I can see that. Sorry."

"'s okay. Uh, maybe I should get back inside..."

"No, it's all right. I can keep an eye on you. Besides, they're still fighting. Just quiet-like."

"You can hear that?"

"I have good ears."

Well, maybe he _didn't_ have enough friends. _This_ guy _seemed_ kinda nice. "So, you watch everyone?

"Not _every_one..."

.

* * *

.

**1988. May.**

"...and Cordelia, she's this snotty rich kid, she walks right in and _slips_, and, I apologize to her but she kinda looked hilarious and I _may_ have laughed a little, so she got mad, and I apologized again, and then she realized all the mud was now on her fancy-shmancy dress, so she says, I swear to God, 'Xander Harris, you will rue the day!' I mean, who _says_ that?"

His mouth was on autopilot, as usual. It was funny, he'd tried to tell Jesse and Willow about the mysterious shadow in the garden, who now hung out outside his window instead since, y'know, it wasn't safe being outside after dark, but they thought he was talking about some imaginary friend or something. Willow's parents had said that it was healthy, even. And Jesse had called him a nut. But Angel listened to his stories about his days, about his friends. He listened. It was like having a grown-up who actually _cared_.

...and Angel was laughing.

"_What_?" He didn't mean to sound so angry.

"I'm sorry, I was just picturing it..."

"Yeah, well, I'm so happy my life is _funny_ to you."

Angel sighed. "Xander, you have to realize there's a difference between someone laughing _at_ you and someone laughing _with_ you. By the way, girls like it when you let them think you're a little weak in some areas. Just FYI."

"Girls are groady." This was truth, as far as Xander knew it.

"What about Willow?"

This confused him. "What about her?"

"Well, isn't she a girl?"

He stared at the shadow. Oh yeah. "Uh, I guess. So?"

"Well, is she...'groady'?"

More confusion. "What? _No_! She's Willow."

"There you go. If Willow is a girl and isn't, uh, 'groady', then all girls aren't...'groady'."

It was like the heavens had opened at night. "Whoa. That's, like, totally deep."

"I try." There was a laughing undertone to the voice. After a long moment of silence as Xander pondered this new way of looking at girls, it started anew, a little hesitant. "So, uh, how's things with...your dad?"

Xander let out a noise. "He's an asshole."

"Language!"

"Sorry. But he is."

Another slight pause. "He hasn't...hit you again, has he?"

"No." Well, not lately. "Too busy drinking, I guess. Sometimes I wish-"

"You, uh, shouldn't wish stuff. Not out loud."

Xander rolled his eyes. "What, there a monster for that too?" So far there were monsters who came after sick children, monsters who ate skin when you were all alone, monsters who made you sing and dance, and _that_ was just _too_ ridiculous...

"Actually, yeah. They grant wishes in the meanest possible way. Like, you say you wish for something like your dad to get tied in a knot...and the next thing you know, he is. And dead. Because, y'know, people can't survive that."

"Oh." Xander wrinkled his nose. "Ew. Gross. So, uh, you can't wish for anything?"

"Sure you can. Just not out loud."

He sighed. "Okay. Y'know, you're taking the fun out of everything."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Not your fault the world sucks."

"Language!"

"Sorry." But Xander was grinning. "So did I tell you what Cordelia tried to do for revenge?"

"No, please, do."

"Okay, so we were in English class, and Mrs Wasserman had this..."

.

* * *

.

**1990. July.**

There was a gasp from the bushes by Xander's window. He winced. He'd wanted to close the curtains, but they were stuck because Tony hadn't been all that good at putting them up.

"What...Xander, look at me. Did...did Tony do that?"

Xander shook his head. "I, uh, I fell. I'm really clumsy."

Okay, so he used that excuse a lot. But he knew Angel would be mad, and he didn't want Tony hurt. He didn't want to _be_ Tony, hurting people because he felt miserable. Just because Tony was a jerk didn't mean Xander had to be one, too.

"You broke your arm and got a black eye because you fell." The voice was flat, so flat you knew it was hiding a _lot_ of angry.

"Yeah."

"...Xander, you can't let him treat you like that."

"He didn't hit me!" _Much_, he didn't say.

For a long time, he thought Angel had left. Then the voice drifted in, closer to the window than ever before. "Xander...has anyone ever tried calling the police?"

He didn't answer.

"...they have, haven't they? And they came here, looked around, saw your bruises and did nothing."

Still no answer.

"I want to help, Xander. Tell me how I can help."

"You can't. Nobody can." There was a little strangled noise from the boy. "Sometimes I wish _you _were my dad."

He didn't see how the shadow staggered, hissing. "Oh, no. Xander, Xander, please, don't..."

"Angel?"

No response.

"...Angel?" He hated how his voice sounded, all squeaky and needy.

The night stayed quiet.

.

* * *

.

**1992. September.**

He hadn't seen – or rather, _heard _– Angel for two years. He knew the guy wasn't an imaginary friend, an imaginary friend was someone you made up in your head. He was twelve, he knew the difference between make-believe and really real. Maybe he'd known it even back then.

It hurt. But he lived his life, he taught Jesse and Willow the little stuff like never inviting people and to always have a cross in your hand when you met someone new for the first time, just little stuff. _'Don't sweat the small stuff'_, that's what one of the role-playing game books in Jesse's collection said. Right next to that was written, _'It's all small stuff'._

He liked that. It's _all_ small stuff. Everything mattered, and didn't. Especially the little things. Willow said it was 'zen', whatever that meant.

He was twelve now. It didn't feel like that big a difference, except now girls weren't quite as grody as before, in fact some were starting to become shaped in a very intriguing manner. He didn't really chase any girls, though. After the first disgusted refusals, he'd realized he wasn't interesting to the opposite sex, so he'd stick with his friends. Maybe some day he'd meet someone really special that would make him make an effort, but he doubted it. Girls might not be grody, but they were certainly weird.

School was really stupid, too. He did okay in gym and great in wood-shop, but everything else always felt so hard. Granted, he was taking all the same classes as Willow and Jesse, so maybe it was just that they were really, really smart.

...except, Jesse could be a real moron sometimes.

Like this thing with Cordelia. So what if she had gotten boobs? She was still Cordelia. They still had the We Hate Cordelia-club, so how come Jesse was acting like she wasn't still a stone-cold...not-nice person? Jesse could be so shallow for a guy who kept track of the latest current last decimal of pi.

He wished he had someone to talk to about girls. Jesse just rambled on about Cordelia, Willow blushed and squeaked. So who could he talk to? But there was nobody.

There was a rustle by the window. He peered at the darkness suspiciously. "Hello?"

No reply.

"...Angel, if you're out there I'm _so_ gonna kick your a...butt."

Was that a chuckle?

"Well, whatever. Good night, butthead."

.

Outside, Angel smiled softly to himself. It had been a close one. To hear his son say...no, best not to think about that. He'd fled town, just in case, seeking out the temple in LA to get advice, maybe even get them to check if he was...

...he wasn't. He'd managed to avoid it. This time.

Not that those bastards would help anyway. Cryptic pseudo-prophecies and callous disregard for the fact that if he lost his soul again, he'd probably do something awful to Xander.

He couldn't let that happen. Even if they didn't care. So he'd set up a spell. The Furies had helped, even if the request had been confusing to them. Hopefully it'd last long enough. A few years was all, and by then maybe he'd be safe enough or would just renew it. And when Whistler asked, Angel had grinned and told him Angelus might be a smart monster regarding self preservation, but brains can't outrun a spell that sets your bones on fire the moment you lose your soul.

The people Whistler worked for hadn't liked that. He'd almost had a happy moment right then and there as they frowned and berated him for risking the future for selfish gain. He'd told them that if they risked his son's future, selfish gain would be the _least_ of their worries.

Even so...he couldn't talk to Xander again. Not yet.

Maybe some day. Hopefully soon.

But for now, all he could do was watch over him.

.

* * *

.

**1994. Late May.**

"This is stupid." He was muttering to himself. The suit looked...awful. It had been cheap, and mom had insisted on it, but it was ugly, and didn't fit him. Yeah, sure, the Hawaiian shirts were more his style, but he knew a bad, ugly suit when he saw one. Just because he never wore fancy clothes didn't mean he didn't know what they were.

And it wasn't like he could dance, either! Well, he could, just not in any way humanly recognizable as good. The Snoopy dance, sure. Anything else was him flailing about like a total palookah.

He was pretty sure Angel was still around, too. Sometimes he caught glimpses of a shadow outside, moving past the window. He didn't let on. He'd stopped being mad years ago, and besides, if the guy didn't wanna talk, he didn't wanna talk. No use pressuring the guy, that _never_ went well.

And who needed to know how to dance, anyway!

"The, uh, you tie the knot on the tie the other..."

He froze.

"...seriously, _please_ don't tell me you finally came out of your hiding place just to teach me to tie a _tie_."

There was a long silence. Then, "Uh...sorry. But you're ruining a nice tie. The suit could be better, but the tie is nice."

"It was my grandpa's."

"Oh." Another silence. "Would you like me to teach you?"

"To tie a tie?"

"And...and other stuff. Like, how to dance well...enough to maybe impress a girl?"

"You're not my dad."

"No, thank God for that."

Xander chuckled. "Yeah, I'd be passing out from the stink of cheap beer by now. Okay. But I can't tie a tie from spoken cues. Wanna come in?"

"No!" Then, in a quieter voice. "No invitations. None. No exceptions, Xander. Not even for me. But if you get up to the window I could...I could maybe help you."

He hesitated only briefly. "Okay."

Angel turned out to be a handsome guy in his twenties or so, a little pale, same hair as Xander, similar eye-color, but nothing too weird-looking. Why he had been hiding in the bushes all this time was maybe a mystery, but it was one you wouldn't really care about. Not like Xander was all that normal either. The guy wore nice clothes, too.

"Okay, you tie the tie like this..."


	3. Genesis III

**50 feet below Sunnydale High, January 1996.**

Heinrich Joseph Nest was a _patient_ man. He had learned this in his seven centuries, to make long-term plans, to _think_ before he acted. To make sure no matter what happened he would have another plan ready to set in motion.

When he had been trapped here on the Hellmouth, he had several contingency plans. While he had lost Angelus to something unknown, and Drusilla and Spike were off gallivanting in their youthful rebellion still, he had two children who were still loyal.

Until that numb-skull Luke had caused Darla's demise with his incompetence.

Luke _was_ a formidable warrior. His skill at using the Aurelian bloodline's mind control power to make his opponents think they were weaker was _superb_, and had made certain he had only lost a single battle in his unlife, against a hunter who had caught him sleeping. But he was often arrogant and impetuous, and his appetite was sometimes too great.

He blamed himself for that one. When choosing a future Vessel for ritual purposes, Luke had been an excellent choice. The hunger would serve him well...but it had also caused Darla's death.

No, he was quite sure he would have to kill Luke sooner or later. After all, Darla _had_ been his favorite.

But the Harvest was not too far off. A year, maybe less. Perhaps a little more, that depended on several other factors. He did not like that there were prophecies suggesting he would fail that first chance, but that was what contingency plans were _for_.

He paused in his internal monologue. "What was that?"

The minion in question jumped, probably not having expected his Master to actually be listening. "We, uh, we think we saw Angelus a few times. He's hanging around one of the residential areas."

"Really?" _Well_, now, this held promise... "And you're sure it's him?"

"Yeah. We checked with Willy, it's really him. Buys pig's blood from a local butcher."

"Interesting. Would someone be so kind as to fetch Luke for me?"

Several minions immediately rushed out, struggling only briefly to be the first one into the tunnels. _So_ good to have obedient cannon fodder. And if Angelus was here...

It would be quite _delightful_ to have his grandchild back.

.

* * *

.

**Elmore Heights, basement apartment of 'Gabriel Himmel'. Early February.**

"...and one-two-three, one-two-three, that's right, you got it!" Angel grinned.

Xander rolled his eyes. "And when am I ever gonna need to know the _waltz_? Or the foxtrot or tango?"

"You'd be surprised. The basics of dance are extremely good for balance and rhythm in all sorts of things." He guided him through the spin and twirl, then separated. "Very good."

He switched off the music as Xander went for a towel. Dancing was a sweaty business, for humans. To be honest, the real reason he taught Xander _these_ dance moves was because anything more modern than that was...let's just say the last time he tried the jitterbug, the results had _not_ been pretty. He was not a dancer in the _modern_ sense, no. And he had to admit, performing the girl's part to make sure Xander learned properly was a bit embarrassing, but Angel was secure enough in his masculinity to not let it get to him...much.

"So, uh, have you found a date for the next dance yet?"

"No. Figure I'd go alone again." Xander frowned. "So, uh, I've been taking martial arts lessons."

Angel raised both eyebrows. "Really? Where?"

"There's this Aikido dojo down in Parkhurst, near Crest View cemetery."

"I know the place. He's good, focuses on the practical rather than the showy stuff. How do you like it?"

Xander shrugged. "It's okay. I dragged Jesse along the first time, he took two lessons then quit. I think I might continue, though. If nothing else I might get Larry off my back."

Angel didn't mention that from what he'd picked up on the Blaisdell kid, the guy was acting out because he was blatantly feeling arousal towards other boys. That would entail admitting he spied on the people who hurt Xander. And that he could smell things like that. "So why Aikido?"

Again a shrug. "Not the biggest guy around, me, and I like the idea of letting the other guy do the work for me."

"Right. I could show you some moves, too, if you like?"

"You know martial arts?" The question was honestly surprised.

"I've picked up a little over time. I could teach you some dirtier tricks that'll work on anyone, no matter how tough?"

The happy grin made his heart sting a little. No, the spell still worked, he'd checked with the Furies only last month, when Whistler brought him to check out the future Slayer. Cute girl, bit ditzy though. Anyway, even if anything happened, he'd go boom the moment Angelus dropped in.

"Cool!"

"Drop in tomorrow, and we'll split the lesson, half ballroom dancing, half martial arts." No need to mention the tricks would work on most demons as well. Going for eyes, nostrils, ears, balls, kneecaps, hamstrings and ankles. Getting out of clinches and choke holds. Stuff like that.

"Awww, more _dancing_?"

"It's what's good for you." He grinned at the reaction. Oh, in a few years he wouldn't be complaining.

Not that Xander _had_ any reason to, now. The fact that the kid considered himself a dateless wonder probably had a lot to do with Tony's continued campaign of terror against his son.

Angel watched.

He lurked.

He knew at least half the girls in school were starting to throw eyes after the boy. He was growing up a strapping young lad, taking after his old man. His _real _old man. Sure, the looks were mostly from the Harris family, but the _eyes_ were his. The eyes were the windows to the soul, was what they said.

And if he ever noticed that his best friend Willow had not only become a very pretty girl but also was head over heels infatuated, well...

"See you tomorrow." Xander waved as he headed off into the early morning light.

Angel stared at the space his son had been in only moments before, then ducked his head down to start cleaning up.

His son. Technically, Xander was the flesh and blood of Anthony and Jessica Harris, he knew this. But the soul _inside_ of there...Whistler had never lied to him, yet. And yeah, he wasn't too happy about what they'd done. But if it was this or his son being lost forever due to him and Darla not knowing about it, he'd pick _this_ any day.

.

* * *

.

**Sunnydale High. Mid-May.**

Xander plopped himself down on the bench, peering curiously at the LA Times newspaper Jesse was reading. The headline read '_High School Fire!_'

"Dude, morbid much?"

Jesse folded the front page down, grinning. "Aw, come on. Somebody did the unthinkable dream!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, county examiners are saying mice chewed on electrical wiring, but some of the firemen said it looked more like arson. _Man_, I wish I lived in LA."

"You shouldn't wish things out loud." It came automatically, as always.

"Yeah, yeah. So, did you see Cordelia's new look? Wham! Right between my eyes!"

Xander gave him an amused look. "Dude, you're totally obsessed. Might as well start stalking her now and get it over with."

"Nah. I'm waiting until her ten thousandth refusal for that." Jesse grinned. "So, any girls on _your_ horizon? Figured out who to chase for the autumn bonanza?"

"Yeah, I figured Amy Yip was currently not seeing anyone..."

"Aw, _man_, you _know_ you could just ask any girl, why you _do_ this to yourself?" Jesse rolled his eyes and rolled up the newspaper to thwack him with it. "Bad Harris! Bad!"

"Ow! And that is _so _not – dude, I've asked, don't you think I've _asked_? Girls hate me."

"You asked like three _years_ ago. Get over it. Besides, I even caught Harmony checking you out the other day."

"Oh, ew. I wouldn't date her if she was the last girl on the planet." Xander scrunched his face up in disgust.

"That's your problem, man, same as mine. Your standards are too high." Jesse waggled his eyebrows.

"If you think stalking Cordelia is having high standards, I know this perfectly lovely compost heap I could introduce you to..."

"Hey guys!"

They both turned. "Willow!" "Girl of the hour!" "The Will-meister!" "Hugs!"

The barrage of hugging, noogies and tickling soon had the redfaced girl gasping for breath. "Ack! Stop it, I said _stop_ it!"

"Methinks she doth protest too much! More tickles!" Jesse brought his hands up in evil tickle-claws.

"No! I'll pee my shorts!"

"_Really_? Let's find out!"

A few minutes later she was crying 'uncle', and the two boys backed off. Willow glared at them. "I hate you guys."

"She hates us?" Jesse adopted an exaggerated pout. "She don't _wuv_ us any mow!"

"No, not the baby talk!" Her face was going terrified.

"Yeah, Jesse, not the baby talk. Ribbit." Xander grinned.

To Willow's growing horror, Jesse nodded. "You're right, that'd be cruel. Ribbit."

"Stop it! You know I hate frogs!"

Jesse nodded. "But they _looove_ you, Wills. Ribbit. Ribbit."

"Ribbit!"

By the time the bell rang, Willow's face was a deep crimson, a nice match to her hair. Mission complete.

.

Math was boring. French the same. Spanish sucked, though Xander stumped the teacher by asking her if she could teach them to say 'Pardon me, officer, but I think I just saw some illegal immigrants approaching the fence over there.' Apparently such useful phrases weren't in the curriculum.

By the time they got to history, Xander was drooping off, thought partly that was due to the huge lunch he'd had.

"...now, Washington and his advisers weren't entirely sure if the British were really going to hold that area, so they..."

Jesse leaned over, poking him in the ribs, whispering frantically. "Dude! He's gonna notice!"

Xander's head jerked up and he blinked blearily. "Whuh? Oh. S'rry."

"Just don't fall asleep. I can pinch you if you want."

"Yeah. Great."

.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the hallway. Xander leaned against the doorway. "_So_ tired."

"What do you _do_ all night, man? 'Cause it sure isn't sleep." Jesse slapped his arm lightly with his notebook.

Willow reached up to feel his forehead. "No fever." Then she seemed to realize what she'd done and blushed furiously, yanking her hand away.

"No, I go to bed early and all, just been getting up real early in the mornings is all." He rubbed the bridge of his nose a little, then moved on to cheeks and temples to get the last tiredness out.

"Yeah? And do what?" Jesse leered. Everything was a dirty joke to him.

"I jog. And eat breakfast. There's this all-night bakery I know that has awesome Danishes, they give free samples to early birds like me."

"Aren't you the one who told us never to go out alone after dark?" Jesse exchanged a look with Willow.

"Mornings are okay. It's late evening to about two in the morning that's not safe. Check the statistics, man."

"The ones that say we have a huge amount of wild animal attacks and accidental deaths by barbecue fork? Statistics around here are _whack_."

"...'whack'?" He grinned at Jesse. "You applying for token black guy?"

"Hey, nowadays the token black guy lives through the movie, I figured I should hedge my bets."

"You're as white as they come, Jesse. Hey, Wills, wanna head to the study room? I need my daily Twinkie rations."

"O-o-okay."

The trio continued down the hall, bickering amicably all the way.

Yellow eyes peered out through the slightly open boiler room door.

.

* * *

.

**Below Sunnydale High. Night-time.**

"Master, we have found a weakness. Angelus frequently spends time with a young human boy, who goes to the local school."

Nest raised a grotesque eyebrow. "Really? For lunch?"

"No, Master. He..._talks_ to him. Teaches him to...to _dance, _and, uh, to fight."

Several of the vampires nearby looked puzzled by this. Nest, on the other hand... "Ah. A _protegé_. How interesting. Keep an eye on them both, but be subtle. And if any of you makes even the slightest move, I will personally see to their punishment." He turned. "Luke, my boy. I want you to find the best fighters in our ranks and prepare a strike team."

Luke, a veritable mountain of a vampire, came out of the shadows, smirking. "It shall be done, Master."

"Of course it will." Nest waved them away, busy in thought.

A protegé. A _weak_ spot. Yes...if they had this human at their mercy, would Angelus not come back to the fold? They might even _turn_ the child, bring him over. Give Angelus a fresh uncle. _Yes_...this was becoming more attractive a notion by the minute.

The Master began to smile.

After a while, the minions in the room began edging away from the ghastly sight. Even vampires have limits to the horrors they can take.

.

* * *

.

**Late November, 1996. The Bronze.**

"Okay, you walk Wills home, okay?" He nodded at Jesse, who rolled his eyes.

"Dude, we're fifteen. She can handle herself."

Xander just gave him a Look. "Cordelia left ten minutes ago."

"Oh. Okay, then."

He watched them for a while, then shook his head in amused disbelief. That boy had it _bad_.

Turning around to head homewards on his own after a quick stop-over at Angel's, he never noticed the silent entourage he had acquired.

.

They grabbed him just minutes after he left Angel's mansion, just as he turned down the street towards the housing district. There was a confused blur of immovable strength, horrifying yellow eyes and ridged, grotesque faces, and then...

...nothing.

.

"...Master said to bring him straight to him, no tasting!"

"You kidding me? Can't you _smell_ that? Like fine wine! He won't notice if we avoid the neck, have a little back bone will ya!"

"I do, I just don't want Luke to rip it _out_! We're in trouble enough as it _is_, grabbing him before getting the go-ahead!"

Xander raised his head. He was lying in a heap in the middle of the cemetery, hands and feet bound at the wrists with sturdy but old rope. His head felt sore. And the two things arguing right next to him weren't human.

Oh, a first glance could probably fool you, from a distance. Until you saw their faces. Bumpy, ugly, ridged foreheads, cheekbones so sharp you could cut a log with them, and big, sharp teeth. And sickly yellow eyes.

_...real vampires get yellow eyes and their faces change when they get ready to bite..._

Holy God. Angel hadn't been telling stories to an impressionable kid. It was _real_. It was _all_ real. They were...

A roar like a lion punctuated the thought as a dark shape soared in from the side, grabbing onto one of the demons and slamming it into a headstone so hard the stone cracked. This was followed by a lightning quick backhand to the second one that sent it spinning in the air on the spot almost like a cartoon. A hand whipped out, holding a sharp wooden implement, the hand plunged down, and one of the vampires vanished in a faint wail and a cloud of black and gray dust.

By the time the second was on his feet, the sharp wooden pole had found that one as well, and it vanished in the same way.

Xander stared at the shape that was so familiar and yet so monstrously _wrong_.

...Angel?

There were monsters out there. Real monsters.

And Angel was one of them all along.


	4. Genesis IV

**December 4th, 1996. Harris Residence, Sunnydale. Midnight.**

"Xander?"

He ignored the voice.

"Xander, please. We need to talk."

"I got nothing to say to you."

Angel appeared outside the window, his head bowed. "No, but I have a lot to say to _you_. I...I'm sorry for not telling you. I was afraid."

Xander whipped around, angry. "Yeah? Afraid of _what?_ From what I can tell, you got nothing to fear from the boogeyman, seeing as you're _it_."

"Xander, please. I was afraid you'd hate me. I...I made a mistake. You're all I have, don't you realize that?"

"Yeah? Until you get hungry, you mean." Okay, the bitterness wasn't his thing. He was way too good at it.

"I would never hurt you." Angel still wasn't looking directly at him. "I...look, I'm not...I'm not like them."

Xander stared him right in the face, but not moving closer. "Looks like them to me."

Angel winced. "I...okay. I was born Liam O'Connor in Galway, Ireland. In the 18th century. I was turned a few days after my twenty-fifth birthday by one of the worst vampires to walk the Earth until then, and I quickly took that dubious honor for myself. Until about a hundred years ago."

Xander snorted. "What, you joined AA?"

"No. I killed the wrong girl. I was an arrogant monster, and figured nobody could touch me. I was wrong. Her family, they...they cursed me. Gave me back my soul."

Xander stared at him, eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're telling me the truth here?"

"You don't. And I understand if you don't want to see me again after tonight. It's just, you need to know. I managed to convince them to leave you and your friends alone, for now. Kill enough of them and even _they_ can see reason. But you can't trust a vampire. They'll either find a loophole or just break the truce when it fits them."

"Oh yeah? But I can trust _you_, is that it?"

"No. _Especially_ not me." He sat down on the thick, low-slung pine branch that went past the window. "The curse is...it's not perfect. Every curse needs an out, a breaking condition. If the gypsies who cursed me were _smart_, they would have set the condition to one that would always torture the demon in me, like only to break if I got dusted. Instead they set it to break if I ever stopped suffering. A moment of true happiness."

"...like?"

"Well, roughly sixteen years ago I found brief happiness with a woman I had once loved. That same night I turned her into a vampire and went on a rampage through the country, hunting down the people who cursed me. I did...terrible things. They managed to curse me again, but the damage was done. And now I know that I can't ever be truly happy, or the monster I was comes right back out again."

"Oh. So, uh, if-"

"There's always a risk. I've put in some safety precautions, just in case, and they're holding for now. But if I ever suddenly start acting all cocksure and mean, that's _him_. Not me. And if that happens, you need to kill me."

Xander fell back onto his bed, stunned. "K-kill..?"

"Yeah. I'm serious, Xander. Angelus is one of the worst monsters to walk the Earth in the past three centuries. They called me the Scourge of Europe. Me and my sidekicks."

"You had _sidekicks_?"

"Yeah. Darla, my sire. She usually kept to the background, she was the long term planner, generally. Drusilla was...my greatest shame. I turned her myself, after driving her insane. She's a powerful psychic, can see the future, or futures, I'm not sure how that works. She can also hypnotize people, just like my grandsire. And last, Spike, Drusilla sired him. He was the most brutal of us, he lived for fighting and torture."

"Oh." This was too much. Too weird. "So, uh, why are you-"

"I...you're important. To me. You're a descendant of my family, one of the last. If anything happens to you..."

"Right." Somehow, he didn't quite believe the reason. "So...what now?"

"Now? Either we part ways here, and you live your life in the daytime. I'll try to keep them off your back as long as possible. Or I continue training you to fight, and maybe some day you can hold your own long enough to get away the next time."

Trust. It was a two-way street, wasn't it? Angel trusted him not to use this knowledge against him. Xander had to trust Angel not to _eat_ him. "...okay. We train. But, uh, we keep to mornings, okay? And not tomorrow, I'm already up late as it is."

Angel nodded. "Sure. And...for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

.

* * *

.

**Sunnydale High. March 10th, 1997.**

So there he was, showing off on his new longboard. He rarely skated these days, but dance lessons and Aikido classes helped in getting the balance right, and he was pretty good at it, he had to admit.

Not that anyone cared. Jesse said skateboards were passé, Willow thought he would break something every time he used it. But it beat riding a bike to school. Besides, he was pretty sure he could outrun a vamp on one.

_So_ weird, knowing that the monsters under the bed were really _real_. Even months later, it freaked him out.

Jesse was nagging him about Spring Fling. It was obvious that Jesse was gonna ask Cordelia, and get shot down. Again. As for Xander...he didn't know who to _ask_. He didn't want to ask Willow, because hey, best friend, even if...even if he was kind of starting to see her differently lately. But he didn't really _know_ any girls. And girls didn't _like him_. Jesse was nuts, claiming girls checked Xander out regularly. Not that _he_ ever saw, and he couldn't just walk up to, like, Amy Madison at random and ask her out. Though Amy was cute now that she had lost weight.

..._man_, that was shallow thinking.

Besides, Amy was acting weird lately. She'd never been the sporty type before, but now all she talked about was cheerleading. Not to mention that Spring Fling was still months away.

And _whoop_, onto the sidewalk. He dodged the walking kids, even a guy riding his bike. It was easy if you could dodge one of Angel's punches. Though now he wondered how much the guy held back.

Rollin, rollin, rollin' on the sidewalk.

"Excuse me, comin' through, watch it, pardon me, hey Billy, nice hat. Whoa, Julie the truly beautiful, check _you_ out!" He grinned at Julia Wu. _She _was kinda cute. Hey, if there _were_ any girls out there for him, they could show up now. Or now. How about now? Now. Or now. Maybe...now. Now?

Eh.

A glimpse of blonde hair.

He turned his head automatically to look.

Short. Cute. Nose was a little pointy, but in a cute way. Long, blonde hair, green eyes.

Whoa.

_New_ gir-

There was a clang, a sharp pain in his forehead, and then everything spun around.

He lay on the ground, blinking the stars out of his eyes. "Ow."

.

* * *

.

**End Genesis**

**Continued in Pneuma**


	5. Pneuma I

**A/N:** Pneuma follows Buffy's perspective only (with one tiny exception in one chapter), and begins shortly after The Witch (because there has been far too many retellings of The Harvest already). I'm using the airing dates of the episodes to place the events in a timeline.

.

"_Give me a taste of something new  
To touch to hold to pull me through  
Send me a guiding light that shines  
Across this darkened life of mine"_

-Midge Ure, "Breathe"

.

* * *

.

**Sunnydale. March 20th, 1997.**

It was curious. He wasn't unusually handsome, though he _was_ kind of good-looking. He wasn't smooth or confident, two things that had always been attractive to her. Pike had been confident. A little _too_ confident, even.

He had _appalling_ dress sense. Bright, hideous shirts over long-sleeved tees.

But Xander Harris was doing a fine job at getting her really, really _annoyed_. And she wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

.

"_Slayer, comma, The. Mystically empowered champion, always female, meant to kill as many demons and vampires as possible before she croaks."_

_Buffy stares at the boy. It'd be better if he was smirking, but he just seems a little...sad. Ambivalent? "Is there, like, a-a-a newsletter or something? An ad in the paper?"_

_He shrugs. "Not common knowledge. But if you don't wanna be around badness, you should know this town is crawling with vampires and other stuff." He reaches in his pocket. "Here you go."_

_She opens it. It's a beautiful wooden cross, complete with rosary. "Who the hell are you?"_

"_Xander. Is me. I thought I told you that already?"_

"_Well, yeah but..."_

"_Just trying to be friendly."_

"_I have enough friends."_

_He frowns a little. "I don't."_

.

Of course, they went into the club and found his two friends. And then Jesse and Willow got lured off to the cemetery, and Jesse was turned...

Wait, did someone stake him? She hadn't seen him around after the Harvest...well, whatever. She'd get to him if he was still out there.

...and Xander, annoyingly, kept her from being dragged down and overwhelmed by vamps while they escaped from the tunnels.

See, that was the thing. He kept _being_ there. She told him to be safe, go home, stay away from trouble...and he threw himself into it instead. Huh. Maybe try reverse psychology?

...no, that never worked.

Gah! _So_ frustrating. Especially since she wasn't sure she could have gotten out unscathed if not for him.

And then Mrs Madison was a witch, and Xander had grabbed an axe and...no, he still looked kind of silly in her memories of it.

Huh. Just what exactly _did _that spell they'd reflected back on her do? Giles had been uncertain. She was gone, and Amy was safe, that was all they knew for sure. No further attempts on the lives of the cheer squad had been made.

So there she was, trying to study math, and Xander Harris was seated across from her and tapping his darn pencil against his notepad.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

...pause...

Tap, tap, tap.

She looked up to glare at him. "Cut that out."

He glanced up, then smiled that zen-like close-lipped smile he always got. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just quit it."

He nodded, and put the pencil down.

Coughed, once.

Scratched the back of his head.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Turned a page.

Coughed again.

Cleared his throat.

Turned another page.

"I swear, if you don't quit it I will _pummel_ you, so help me God." She glared at him even more sternly than before.

...and he grinned, this time with real amusement. "That a promise?"

"Shut. Up." Her mouth was _not_ twitching at the corners. It wasn't. Really.

"Okay, okay. Sheesh. Typical women, always resorting to violence..."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he ducked his head down with a minimum of chuckling.

Okay.

Ahhh, blessed silence.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her head whipped up, her eyes narrowing with annoyance. Wait...he was actually just reading? Then who was-

A low giggle from behind her caused her to sigh and put her face in the palms of her hands.

"Hey guys!"

"Willow! Girl of the hour. Come on, have a seat." Xander patted the couch beside him, and for a moment Buffy felt a slight twinge in her stomach. She ignored it.

After all, he was just an annoying guy.

.

* * *

.

**March 27th, 1997.**

"Man. Some birthday _this_ turned out to be."

Buffy froze at the quiet muttering. Willow was helping Xander walk after his pummeling by horny mantis demon, and Giles had promised to show up and give them a ride back to the school.

"It's your birthday?"

He winced. "Oh. Um. Not really. Mine is in April, but, uh..."

Willow blushed. "Mine is tomorrow. We sort of put ours together. His parents don't really celebrate his birthdays."

Buffy frowned. What kind of parents didn't celebrate your birthday? Even Willow's folks did, since she was going to hold a quiet get-together this weekend at the Rosenberg house, and Willow's parents were...weird.

"Does that mean I have to buy you a present?"

He chuckled, then winced again, this time from the pain. Oh yeah, probably a cracked rib. "Not really. Your presence is enough."

Okay, sometimes he knew _exactly_ the right words to say. Damn it.

.

* * *

.

**April 2nd, 1997.**

It was so weird. Owen was sweet, smart, sensitive, handsome...and even if there was a bit of sparkage, there wasn't enough to drag him into it. It was bad enough Xander and Willow were involved. The funeral home yesterday had been bad enough.

_You can say that again._

She frowned at the thought. Where'd _that _come from?

"Owen...I'm sorry. But, uh, I don't think this'll work out." She swallowed, hard. "But we, uh, we can still be friends?"

He looked at her, curiously, then glanced over to the other side of the quad. "Huh. No, I, I get it. It's okay. You're not sure what you want right now. Just, hope you figure it out yourself."

She smiled at him a little sadly, then watched him walk away. It hurt, a little. Then she looked in the direction he'd been looking, and saw Willow and Xander seated under a tree talking and laughing.

...wait, what did he mean by _that_?

.

* * *

.

**April 9th, 1997.**

It was so _freaky_. According to Giles, Primal possessions simply did not _work_ like that. Granted, Giles was real suspicious of Xander since he knew so much about the local night-bumping varieties – even Giles had to admit he'd never _heard_ of some of the critters Xander casually mentioned – but she had to admit, what had happened was wiggy.

The whole bunch of bullies had been possessed. Xander on the side. Only, in _his_ case he hadn't changed behavior, he'd run straight to her and Giles and told them he was hearing a weird voice ranting at him in his head. Sure enough, some kind of hyena spirit had possessed him...but had somehow failed to take over.

So while Rhonda and her gang went and ate poor Herbert the pig and then principal Flutie, Xander was sitting in the book cage, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth while whispering 'shut up' like a mantra. For hours.

They got the thing out, of course. Well, technically that crazy zookeeper had gotten it out, then gone power-mad and got eaten by his own hyenas. Giles said all that would remain was bad memories, and Xander had shuddered at that, still pale like a ghost. And then he'd looked at Willow and got this _nauseated_ look on his face before rushing off to the bathroom.

And today...he was all avoid-y.

So she followed him, after school. After all, he always went off on his own, whenever he wasn't with Willow. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever have gotten involved with her...with her _Slaying_, if it hadn't been for Willow. If Willow wasn't around, he wasn't much either.

And besides, how _did_ a high school kid know as much about demons and stuff?

She followed him easily. Being a Slayer was real handy sometimes. But it was obvious he was trying to shake any pursuers, real paranoid-like, because he did these silly things like sneaking into alleys to reach a street on the other side and then continue in the same direction before switching right back. That might have worked if she wasn't jumping on the rooftops _above _him.

Eventually, he reached the swankier neighborhoods, with big, white-washed adobe mansions and huge gardens, really fancy type. She was pretty sure Cordelia lived near there.

...and what was _with_ that girl? She kept picking on Buffy and Willow and making weird digs at Xander every chance she got. It reminded her of herself and Pike...

..._no_. No way. Nuh-uh. Xander _hated_ her. He thought she was a real shrew. He actually knew what shrew _meant_, and used it for Cordy. According to Willow, they were the last members of the We Hate Cordelia Club.

Still, that girl bore some looking into. With his luck, she was probably part demon or something.

Finally, he turned down a less well-lit street towards some houses that looked boarded up. Old condos, a few mansions. At one of the abandoned condo complexes, a huge black convertible was parked, a 70's muscle car if she had any kind of eye for that sort of thing. More of a classic than Giles' pathetic little toad of a vehicle. Xander turned in on the driveway, then headed for one of the basement apartments.

Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

She crept closer, carefully. Slayer hearing was great, but even she had trouble hearing through old brick walls. Okay...two voices. Xander and...some guy. Wait, was Xander gay? No, he ogled girls when he thought nobody was watching him. _That _wasn't it. So she had to get closer.

"...can't even _look_ at her now. God, I am such a creep."

"Wasn't you. Xander, the Primal takes _over_. Or tries to, in your case. Yeah, it uses any desires of the host, conscious or not, but it _isn't_ the person it takes. I know a thing or two about demonic possession, y'know?"

"Yeah, but...she's _Willow_. And it was telling me to...gah! Brain scrub! Can you use steel wool on your brain? Is that possible?"

There was a rustle. "All I can say is, if you listen to your own heart you'll know what's you and what's memories of the Hyena. Eventually, it'll fade away completely."

"I guess. Still, not really helpful right now. I mean, I was thinking of asking her out, but now?"

...Xander was gonna ask Willow out? Huh. Well, there _was_ some flirtage on-going, and she knew Willow really liked him, but...

"Sorry." Another rustle. "So do you wanna spar tonight, or..?"

"Nah. Too wigged out. Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay. It's gonna be dark in an hour or so, can you get home all right?"

"Yeah, no problem. I'll take the shortcut. See you around, Angel."

"You too, Xander."

'Angel'? What kind of name was _Angel _for a guy?

She waited silently in the bushes until Xander had left. She was about to follow him again when the voice from inside interrupted.

"Might as well come in."

Buffy froze. Maybe he was guessing?

"I'm not guessing, if you're wondering. I know you're there. In the bushes. Xander didn't see you, but I'm harder to surprise."

She waited a few seconds, then sighed, and stood up. Brushed off some dirt from her pants, primly. "Fine."

The apartment was nice. A little cold, but nice. A book shelf with books in four or five languages, some old paintings, a few knickknacks from all over the world. A weapons cabinet with a couple swords in the back of the living room. Heavy drapes and shades by the windows.

'Angel' was a guy in his mid-twenties or so, dark hair and eyes like Xander, but built a little stockier, and he was slightly taller. He looked like Xander's older brother or something, only not quite. He wore a white wife beater under a black cotton shirt, and was actually kind of handsome. Pretty, even.

He smirked at her. "Buffy Summers. The Slayer. Xander can't stop talking about you."

Her stomach sank a little. He'd _told_ this guy? Why not tell _them_? "Remind me to break his neck later."

Angel frowned. "I'd appreciate it if you don't. I kinda like the guy."

Buffy raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Like'em young, huh?"

He looked puzzled, then vaguely disgusted. "What? No! That's...not it."

"So what is it?" She looked around, taking in the digs. "Why does he tell you about me?"

Angel shook his head. "We're friends. Go back a long time, him and me. And as for telling me, it's the other way around. _I_ told _him _you're the Slayer. Half the underground in this town knew you were coming before you even arrived."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "...and you know this because?"

He shrugged. "I get around. I listen." He smiled wistfully, looking to the side. "I lurk."

Nodding, she dragged a finger on a shelf. No dust. Either he was a neat freak, or he had a maid. "So, _you're_ the one feeding him information."

"I try. This town is dangerous if you're not in the know." He looked a little uncomfortable. "Look, no offense, but...what are your intentions with Xander?"

It was her turn to smirk. "Aren't you a bit young to be his dad?"

Angel frowned, then muttered a quiet "You'd be surprised..."

Ignoring him, she decided to answer. Sort of. "I _have_ no intentions. He's a _friend_. Well, a friend of _Willow's_, which makes him a friend of mine, I guess. I tried keeping him away from the Slaying, but he won't listen. And, to be honest, he's been helpful."

"Yeah." He made a face. "He's been telling me I need to help you guys out more. I...can't do that. For various reasons."

Oh, so he was a coward. No, that was unfair. Not everyone could handle stuff as well as Willow and Xander did. "Whatever." She turned to walk away, then stopped at the door. "I'll make sure he gets home okay. And if you ever hurt him? _Not_ gonna be a pretty picture."

Angel nodded. "Duly noted."


	6. Pneuma II

**April 14th, 1997.**

_Okay. Stop me if you heard this one before. The most dangerous woman on the planet walks into an alley, and three ugly, buttfaced vampires in ren-faire outfits show up._

It was like the start of a bad joke. "Xander, get behind me."

"Way ahead of ya!" His voice came from behind the dumpster a ways back. Good.

She really shouldn't have let him tag along tonight. At all. But they'd been at the Bronze, and he had been so awkward around Willow so she'd finally taken it upon herself to have mercy on him and drag him home. He _really_ needed to talk to her about the Hyena thing. Right.

"So, who's up first?"

"And what's on second?"

She winced at Xander's horrible joke, and then dove into the battle.

They were good. _Real_ good. Most vamps relied on natural speed and instincts to fight, and that was difficult enough when they had numbers, but these guys had _trained_. Probably for a long time, going by their unusually knobbly game faces. Still, they weren't pros in their own right, she could tell. There was a certain..._confidence_ lacking.

Unfortunately, their skills were a bit too damn good, and one of them got by her, diving for...Xander? The hell?

She was acting mostly out of desperation now. They were here for Xander. Why were they here for _Xander_? She was the Slayer, so why go for the guy _next _to her? And they had her on the retreat even as one of them was holding Xander in a deathgrip, and-

A black shadow lunged, jumping off the dumpster to land with a knee in the face of the one holding Xander. As the vamp staggered back, Angel turned to her and yelled. "Get him out of here!"

He didn't have to tell her twice, though an idle part of her brain wondered if he'd been stalking them.

They reached her house together, her leading the way while he carried Xander. Once she'd gotten them away from the three freakboys, he'd showed up a couple blocks later, a little bruised but none the worse for wear. Xander was still a bit out of it, so Angel had helped her carry him. Not that he was too heavy for her, but it got sort of awkward to explain to bystanders how a sixteen-year-old girl could be carrying a guy around like a rag doll.

She opened the door. Mom was nowhere in sight, hopefully working late at the gallery again. She nodded at Angel, making sure to keep her voice low. "Come on in, put him on the couch."

Once they had him down, she took the time to check over his wounds. Angel seemed fine, but Xander had bruises on his neck and was breathing a bit funny. Maybe they should take him to the hospital?

"At this hour?" Angel shook his head. "Besides, it's just a bit swollen. He'll be fine with some ice on it."

Right. Ice. She stood up, gave Xander a last worried look, then headed into the kitchen.

...where mom was seated, reading through some paperwork.

"Oh! Hi. Didn't know you were...what happened to your jacket?"

Buffy froze. Oh darn. Darn it, darn it... "Uh, I was walking home with, uh, Xander, and he, uh, fell and hurt his throat. We're fine! We're fine. Just gonna get some ice for the swelling."

Joyce stood up, clearly concerned. "You're sure?"

"Yeah." She hated lying to her. But she grabbed an ice-pack from a drawer and then filled it from the fridge, making sure to put a little dash of water in to keep it from being too uncomfortable.

Xander was on the couch...and Angel was nowhere in sight. Huh. Must have run when he heard Joyce. Wuss.

"Oh, my, that looks bad...Buffy, put the ice on there while I get the first aid kit."

Oh, well...

.

"...um, thanks for the couch. Last night."

Buffy smiled at him, warmly. "No problem. Hope mom didn't hassle you too much."

Willow peered at them both curiously. "Xander slept at your house last night?"

Xander raised both hands in defense, instantly. "On the couch! In the living room. Her mom made cocoa. She's awesome."

"The greatest." She couldn't help noticing the slight frown coming from Willow. "We have a great couch, too."

Um. Awkward. How to reassure Willow there were no intentions here? Oh!

"So, uh, Angel, huh. How about that guy."

Willow blinked, and Xander was making frantic gestures behind her. "Who?"

...oh. Damn it.

.

"The Three are warriors, notorious for dedicating themselves to martial perfection."

"As opposed to _marital_ perfection. 'Honey, I did the dishes and fixed the garage door, would you like a footrub?'"

Giles glared at Xander. "They are _quite_ dangerous. I suggest-"

"More training?" Buffy gave her Watcher a wry look.

"...yes."

"What I wanna know is why they didn't give a hoot about me other than I was in the way. They wanted _Xander_."

The room fell silent, and everyone turned to look. He gave an innocent shrug. "Don't look at _me_, I got no clue."

"Well, they did. And then Xander's buddy _Angel _showed up and helped us get away." She smirked at him.

Willow had been frowning for a long time now, and suddenly understanding dawned. "Wait...Angel? Like, _Mr Angel_?"

Xander blushed. "Uh...yeah."

"I thought...we thought he was your imaginary friend! He's _real_!?" Willow looked downright betrayed.

Xander looked a little insulted. "Hey, I never _said_ he was imaginary! You guys _assumed_, I tried to tell you he _wasn't_, remember?"

"Oh. But...oh. You, you're right." Willow sank back.

"Imaginary friend?" Giles was looking puzzled.

Xander shrugged. "He's just this guy I know, he's been sort of watching my back since I was little. He knows a lot of the badness out there, gave me tips, showed me how to kick'em in the jimmies before running." He made a bitter face. "Worked so far."

"I, I see." Giles gave him a concerned look. "And you _trust_ this...Angel?"

"No. He told me not to."

"Ah."

"I think someone should keep an eye on Xander, just in case." She was about to suggest herself, but fate mocked her.

"Well, I _do _have a spare bedroom..." Giles looked a little uncomfortable at the thought.

"Uh, he often sleeps over at my house, or he used to, that could work!" Willow looked hopeful.

"Don't I have a say in this?"

All three turned to face Xander. "_No_."

.

It was Buffy's turn to keep an eye on him. After much maneuvering they'd managed to get him to stay at Giles' place (his 'flat') only after promising Xander that they wouldn't do more. Of course, they did more. First Willow just _happened_ to keep him company while Giles researched about the Anointed One that all the vamps were raving about, and then Buffy watched from the roof.

She was rewarded fairly late, at about the time she was starting to nod off.

"...shouldn't have come here, they're suspicious enough as it is."

"I know. Just wanted to let you know from what I hear the Three are history. As in, dust. The Master has brought in one of his oldest children from Europe, Pijavica. She's clever, powerful and old_._ Watch yourself at all times. Darla used to call her the Queen Bitch of Prague, avoided her like the plague. Spike and Dru didn't, and she sicked the whole city on them."

"Cute."

Angel chuckled. "Darla had a way with words. I'll, uh, be going."

"See you later, when this blows over."

Xander ducked inside, closing the window. Buffy slowly sat back, barely moving a muscle, watching this Angel guy. Something about him triggered her wiggins something _fierce_.

And...there.

Two big guys walked up to him. Not exactly threatening, but obviously not friendly. Except, Angel didn't exactly seem scared of them. In fact, he seemed bored?

"Angelus. Mother wishes to speak to you."

Angel paused, looking sideways at a nearby wall to show his utter lack of fear. "Still into big boys, huh? Tell _Peggy_ she can come out and talk to me if she wants, I'm not dealing with her flunkies."

The biggest one snarled, showing its vampire game face. "When Mother tells you to-"

Angel's face shifted right before he headbutted the big vampire, then whipping out with a stake in his hand to dust the other one. He finished by staking the one he'd headbutted. "Auntie dearest can go suck a tailpipe."

Buffy stared.

_He was a vampire._

Xander's secret buddy was a vampire. Oh God. Did he _know_? Of course not. And she'd invited it into her house!

_Mom._

She scrambled to her feet, making a beeline for home.

.

Joyce was fine. This was a good thing. She made a call to Giles, who promised to get to work on a de-invitation spell ASAP. That would make sure it couldn't get back in any time soon. And they had to tell Xander.

Crap, they had to tell Xander.

Stupid Xander. Stupid Xander who had been the first to talk to her like a normal person, the first to just accept her for who she was _aside _from the Slayer, and now she found out he had known all along?

Stupid Xander.

She _really_ had to tell him about Angel.

Telly telly telly...tell.

How the _hell_ do you tell one of your best friends that his buddy is a monster?

.

The door was smashed wide open, and Giles was on the floor. She rushed up to him, and found that he was still breathing. Concussed only, then. "Giles!"

He groaned as she helped him sit back up. "W-we forgot...she sent in two Droxyn demons. She knew she wouldn't be able to _enter_ so she sent...oh, dear."

"Who, Giles? Who did this?" She had to know so she knew who to stake with prejudice.

"I don't know. She wore white. Bit of an accent." He shook his head. "Where's Xander?"

Buffy froze. Oh, God.

.

The guest room was empty. There were a few spots of blood on the bedsheets, and an overturned lamp. No Xander. They took him. They actually went to the _effort_ to take him.

Why?

What was so darn special about him? Well, aside from the obvious, he was a sweet guy, bit of a dork but sweet. Somehow she didn't think vampires were all that interested in a minion whose main skill was swallowing Twinkies in a single bite.

Oh, no. God, no. What if they turned him? Like...like Jesse.

No. She would stake him herself if it came to that. She stood up, full of calm resolve. "Giles! We need to find him!"

Turning around, she found Giles at the door, holding a crumpled note. "I found this by the false fireplace. He's bait."

She smirked coldly. "No. _She's_ dead _meat_."

.

The Bronze was empty, and she hoped it was because it was shut down and not because they'd eaten the staff. You never knew with vampires. And trussed up on the stage like a turkey, dangling from a rope was Xander. He was bleeding from the forehead and had a few bruises, but he was moving. Oh, thank God. Plus, he'd been taken like two hours ago, so he wasn't turned either.

"I do so enjoy a good performance. I look forward to hearing his screams."

The voice was deep, rich, the kind of voice you expected from an opera singer. A woman stepped out from behind the curtains, and Buffy almost gasped.

She was _gorgeous_.

Tall, statuesque. Straight, almost white-blonde hair that had never seen a bottle of hair-dye ever falling down to her waist. Her curvaceous, perfect build was encased in a long, backless dress that looked a bit like a wedding dress, flaring out at her ankles, and accentuated with a white choker around her neck. Her eyes were ice blue, and her lips cherry red.

She looked like someone's perfect bride-ideal. And she was _smiling_.

"Welcome, Slayer, to your death."

Buffy sighed. "Let him go."

The vampire frowned in mock hurt. "Father _gave _him to me. Said he gave his word not to touch the boy, but I never made such a vow. And you would take this blessed gift away? He will make an excellent son. An excellent mate."

Buffy leaned back and made a face at the gross implications. "Ew!"

Bridezilla frowned, and let her game face come out. Not so darn pretty _now_, huh? "He is _mine_. And you will die. As all your kind does."

"You and what...army?" Buffy winced as big burly vampires, at least a dozen of them, left the shadows from all around them.

Crap.

Bridezilla grinned, showing off her snaggly teeth. "Meet my sons. Alexander here shall be their father, their brother."

And again with the ick and the ew. Buffy shuddered visibly with disgust. "Do you even _hear _yourself talking?"

_"Kill her."_

As the vampires rushed in to take her down, twin crossbow bolts found their marks, ending two of them instantly. Only ten to go, and four of those veered off to find the unseen snipers. Willow and Giles. Yeah, they wouldn't find them inside. Giles had suggested taking up positions up on the roof by the broken skylight, which meant they had clear view of everything below and didn't have to worry about being caught all that fast.

Now if only she could find some way to insta-kill six vamps...

"Forget _them_, go for _her_!" She turned in surprise at the new voice just as a fully vampiric-looking Angel swooped in. She raised her guard only to make a puzzled noise as he instead smacked down one of the big burly vamps. "She linked herself to them, they can't hurt her without hurting themselves!"

Oh...oh! She could _use_ that!

Grabbing one of the Burlies, she swung him around in a wide circle, ignoring his shocked roar as he sent the other minions scrambling back to avoid being clobbered with their 'brother'. At the perfect moment she let go, sending big, dumb and buffalo flying into his skanky mistress in white.

The look on The Ho Bride's face was so totally worth it.

Mr Buffalo #4 landed on Bridezilla's face with a big thump, knocking her down...

...and all the other vamps fell sprawling to the ground. Except Angel, who jumped onto the stage and swung a sword at the rope tethering Xander to the ceiling.

Angel hauled Xander and Buffy hauled ass as they left the building quicker than not, stopping only to dust another buffalo-sized vamp in the way. She paused once to glance back at Angel. "This doesn't mean I trust you!"

The vampire let out a bitter little laugh. "Good!"

.

Xander cleaned up nicely. It was an odd thought, considering he had cuts and bruises everywhere. Buffy sat down by his left side, using some medical alcohol to clean the cuts. No stitches were needed, at least. Just a lot of little compress patches. Lots and lots. Because he was hurt. Which was why he had to be shirtless. No other reason.

"So."

"So." She daubed at another cut, ignoring his little 'ouch'. "Angel is a vampire."

He hissed, and it had nothing to do with her less than gentle ministrations. "It's not what you think."

"Really?" She gave him a disbelieving glare. "Because what I _think_ is that I invited a vampire into my _house_ the other night, all because you said we could trust him."

He glared right back. "I never said that."

"He's a _vampire_, Xand. Kinda important detail, there." She didn't stop glaring. Instead she handed him a tee, then wiped her hands on the unstained part of the cut away shirt they had peeled off of him earlier. Another lost shirt, that.

"He's not like the others." He stared at the floor. "About a hundred years ago, he killed someone whose family knew black magic. Cursed him with a soul. He spent seventy years reliving every horrible thing he'd ever done. Now he...well, he tries. He's not so good at the whole good guy thing. Mostly he sits at home and broods. And lurks."

"So why did they grab _you_?"

Xander looked up at her. "Because I'm his friend. See, the guy you've been gearing up to fight, this Master dude? That's Angel's grandsire. And he wants his best killer back."


	7. Pneuma III

**A/N:** There is a tiny leap off the Pneuma path within this chapter with a brief look into Xander's brain. But just a tiny one.

Ranmyaku Kiritsu: The reason the chapters are coming out so fast is because I have eight of them already finished. The pace of publishing will slow once Pneuma is done. :-)

.

* * *

.

**April 28th.**

"What kind of name is 'Malcolm' anyway? I bet he's a creep."

Buffy gave Xander a wry look. "Or maybe he's a shy geek like Willow?"

"A _creepy_ shy geek." He threw a look of his own back. "So. Any news on the Buffster front?"

"You mean the..." She mimed a single staking, then slightly melodramatic death scene.

"No, no, I mean the social scene. I know things didn't work out with whatsisname, but-"

"Owen."

"Right, Bob! That was it."

She grinned. "Goof. They're not _that _interchangeable."

He shrugged. A brief vision of him shirtless passed through her mind and she looked away to hide rapidly reddening cheeks.

"Gotta admit, your dating luck has been spectacularly bad."

"Says the guy who almost got eaten by a giant mantis demon." Raised eyebrow, an increased focus on bad images. Gucci shoes in mud. Dior dresses on fire. No more blush. Stupid involuntary bodily reactions...

"Touché." He stretched.

...dammit.

"So, uh, what about you?" Okay, _sympathy_. Sympathy would help distract her overactive imagination. And hormones.

He let out a laugh. "You kidding me? Like you said, closest to a date I've had lately was the spirit of an alpha female hyena in my noggin and a mantis demon." It was his turn to look away, but mostly to look towards the wing where the computer labs were. "Only girl I'm into is...not an option."

It actually hurt a bit to see him sad. So she nodded sagely, then reached out and softly used Slayer-strength to shove him off the bench. He landed on the floor with a thump.

"Hey!"

She gave him a continued sage look, then a challenging eyebrow. "Whatcha gonna do about it? Hyenaboy."

He blinked, sputtering. "I-I-I-I...something damn manly, is what!"

"Like?"

He slumped. "I think I'll go home and listen to Tammy. She understands me."

Huh? "Who?"

He looked at her, then screwed his voice up in a high-pitched, ridiculous falsetto. "Stand by your maaaaaan..."

.

The door to the hallway opened, and Cordelia and her crew exited, giving the two giggling teens a look of pity in passing. She turned to the Cordettes in lecture mode. "See? This is what happens when you hang out with dweebs. You _become_ one."

Buffy sobered a little, then called back. "So what happens if your crew are all below their own shoesize in IQ?"

Cordelia stopped, even as Harmony let out a nervous giggle. "I wouldn't know. Call me when you find out."

Xander patted Buffy's shoulder comfortingly. "Though you'll have to wait until Cordy here figures out how to use a phone that doesn't have Fisher-_Price_ written on it."

Whatever scathing reply Cordelia had planned was lost as Harmony bulled her way up to them and let out _her_ best reply.

"Well, like, grow up!"

Xander and Buffy stared at her with wide-eyed shocked amusement for a few seconds before looking at each other and falling into giggles again. A gentle but firm and perfectly manicured hand grabbed onto Harmony and guided her away from them.

"It's okay, Harm, you tried."

Whatever response she gave was lost as the group vanished behind a corner, Aphrodesia pausing to glare at them before disappearing.

Buffy sighed. "As much fun as letting out my inner Hemery high self and mocking the Cordelia brigade is, I really gotta be going. See ya tomorrow?"

"Sure."

He slumped his shoulders a little before glancing over at where the computer labs were again.

.

* * *

.

**April 30th.**

Willow was bummed. This was never a good thing. Willow being bummed led to Xander getting increasingly goofy until he was so hard to contain that it actually got infectious. Buffy held her in a hug while Xander sought desperately for something to say.

"So, um, we gonna go to the Bronze tonight? We three?"

Yes! Good idea. Bronze. No vampires, just dancing and eating. She could do that. "It'll be fun!"

Xander nodded, clearly encouraged by her enthusiasm. "Yeah, Willow, fun? Remember fun? That thing where you smile?"

As he smiled at her hopefully, Buffy squeezed Willow a little, hoping it was reassuring and not bone-constricting.

Willow did not seem to look...hopeful. "Oh, I'm sorry guys. I'm just thinking about..."

"Malcolm?" She glanced at Xander, noting his wince at the name. Yeah, he had it bad. And that stung a little.

"Malcolm, Moloch, whatever he's called. The one boy that's really liked me, and he's a demon robot. What does _that _say about me?"

"It doesn't say anything about you."

"I mean, I thought I was really falling-"

Buffy couldn't help being a little irritated, but at the same time, hey, misery party. "Hey, did you forget? I've tried dating like ten times. Latest one thought hunting vampires was like bungee-jumping."

Xander fell in, nodding. "Right, and the teacher I crushed on? Big bug?"

Even Willow had to smile a little at his goofy grin. "...that's true."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's life on the Hellmouth."

Buffy nodded her own agreement. "Let's face it, none of us are ever gonna have a happy, normal relationship."

"We're doomed!" Xander agreed.

Willow was getting cheered up, which was...of the good! "Yeah!

And they laughed.

Until they didn't.

.

* * *

.

**May 6th, 1997**

Xander sat down on a seat, staring at the inanimate wooden doll on the trunk nearby. Buffy was over by the changing room – the A/V room had been set aside for costume changes – trying to make Willow stop hyperventilating.

All in all, their performance had really, what was the word...

...sucked.

Oedipus. Why the heck did they pick Oedipus Rex? As if any of them could act worth spit. And poor Willow...

They really should have done the ghost scene from Hamlet, instead. He could have been the castle guard, and Buffy Hamlet. Willow would have been an excellent ghost. As long as nobody saw her face, she'd have done great.

"Y'know, it's weird. I never thought I'd feel sad about a puppet dying."

Giles let out a little noise that might have been a sort of chuckle. "Yes, well. Sid was quite the character, I suppose."

Xander nodded. "Yeah." He glanced towards the changing room. "Think Buffy's gonna get through to her before she passes out?"

"I have high hopes." Giles smirked, briefly. "You, er, made quite an impression on the stage."

"We _bombed_, is what we did. Shoulda gone with me playing the kazoo while Buffy did cartwheels or something. And Willow throwing buckets of glitter at us."

The librarian gave him a horrified look. "Dear God, _why?_"

Xander shrugged. "Dunno. Sounded funnier in my head. I think I'm tired."

"Yes." Giles replaced his glasses, then sighed. "Well, it's been a long day and I rather suspect we're _all_ tired, not just you. Shall I, er, drive you home? Buffy can take Willow, I'm sure."

He didn't want to go home. He never wanted to go home. But yeah. "Sure."

.

* * *

.

**May 14th, 1997**

"_Clowns_?" She grinned at Xander. "Seriously, your worst fear was clowns?"

He looked embarrassed. "Yeah, well, not everyone rate the Master as theirs."

That sobered her up. "Yeah."

"Sorry."

She looked at him now. Really _looked_. He was still shook up, she realized with some mild confusion thrown in. Why was he still shook up about something as goofy as that?

Yeah...she had to ask Willow, later. Willow would know. She'd explained a few things about the Harris house to her, once Buffy got up the nerve to ask. The drinky bit.

.

"Um...I don't think-"

"Pleeeeeeease?" She turned on the puppy-dog eyes. She already knew Willow was defenseless to them, Xander used them all the time, and he was an amateur compared to her.

Willow looked a little upset and freaked, then grumbled out an 'oh, all right' before seating herself and her lunch tray next to Buffy.

"So, what first?"

"Well, why is he so scared of clowns?"

Willow hesitated. "That's um, that's kind of private."

Huh? "Clowns."

"Yeah. It's...okay, promise you won't get mad?"

"Sure!" She smiled in what she hoped was a cheerful and trustworthy manner.

"No, I mean it. This is big. This is personal pinky-swear best friends-code breakage, and Xander could get really angry with me if he finds out I told on him, so you have to _promise_ not to get mad. At all."

By now Buffy was frowning. "Why would I get mad at him?"

"Not him. His parents."

Oh.

.

She wasn't mad.

Not at all. Not even angry. Nope, this was Buffy not mad. Or angry. Or frustrated because, when you got right down to it, it was all in the past and the past is another country.

No, she wasn't mad.

She was freaking _furious_.

Okay. Okay. This was her calming breath. Calming. Like mom taught her on that yoga class. Calming breath.

Uh...

"You okay?" Willow gave her a worried look.

"Fine! I'm fine. Just dandy." Then she sat back, letting her real mood out a little. "It's just..._ugh_! And he..."

"Yeah." Willow looked uncomfortable but even so gave her a little smile. "Um, he hasn't hit him since he was around twelve or so."

Oh, brother, how to put this... "That's _worse_. That just means he stopped because he doesn't like it when someone can hit _back_."

Willow shrank back a little. "But, but if-"

Buffy sighed. "It's okay. I won't tell him that I know. It's just, you think you know a guy."

Willow gave her an odd look at this. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. C'mon, let's go find him. I need to apologize with snack foods."

Because that would be easier than think of the fact that he'd been the only one who actually _won_ against his fears.

_(The Master smirking at her. Holding her down. "A dream is a wish your heart makes.")_

Much, _much_ easier.

.

* * *

.

**May 21st, 1997.**

It wasn't easy. And it didn't get easier. Knowing that a person could just get...grabbed, like that. And yeah, Marcie had been crazy. Lonely, angry at the world, vicious and sad.

Oh, yeah, _that_ sure didn't bring her any kind of reminder of anything.

The smell had been the worst. The damp padding on the walls in the isolation chambers, the smell of disinfectants and chemicals, the smell of non-perfume cologne on the orderlies...

The asylum was _not_ a good place to be for a girl their age.

Except Marcie probably wasn't going to an asylum.

Xander was sitting on one of the quad tables, soda in hands. He looked pensive. Thoughtful. It was a good look for him, bit unusual if she was completely honest.

"Wooden nickel for your thoughts." She grinned and plopped down on the bench attached to the table.

He let out a little snort. For a moment, he was just quiet, as if waiting for something, then he looked up at the main building. "Three thoughts, really."

"Three? Sure you won't break that noggin of yours?"

"Well, Miss Comedian, just for that I won't tell you."

True to his word, he kept silent. So she sighed. "Fine. _Two_ wooden nickels."

He let out another snort, then sipped his soda. "Marcie could have been me or Wills. We're both outsiders, like her. Ignored. I found a way to get noticed, and that got me a few good friends. Wills...could very easily have been her. If she hadn't gotten into computers, or met me..."

Buffy shivered. Yeah. She could see that. Willow was shy, self-conscious, bad at confrontations...yeah. "Okay. But you weren't."

"No. But, y'know, there but for the love of God..." He took another sip. "Then there's the fact that wherever they took her, it's probably not to cure her."

"Trying real hard not to think about that." She frowned. "I wish I could do something. She was crazy, and she needed help. Not someone to give her a gun and put her on a grassy knoll."

Xander nodded. "But the really freaky part, that kept me up half the night, is this..." He faltered, then looked right at her. "If they knew about her, an _invisible_ girl, they must have this whole place under some kind of close surveillance. Because they knew who _you_ were. What you _do_. And they didn't care."

She felt herself grow cold.

Oh.

Oh, God.


	8. Pneuma IV

**A/N:** Final part of Pneuma, long chapter, and the last pre-prepared one. From now on, updates will be slower (and usually bigger). As for the theme of this chapter, friend codes can be the most toxic thing known to mankind.

As for the Hyena, in the original episode, Hyena-Xander used Xander's conscious and subconscious desires and thoughts and _twisted_ them (which would be why he was so ashamed that he lied about remembering, afterwards). It only makes sense that the primal was trying to tempt him with twisted imagery from his own mind. And as we have already noticed, in this AU, Xander has a thing for _Willow_, not Buffy. All thanks to someone pointing out that his best friend was a pretty girl when he was still young and malleable...

This chapter was hard to write, mainly because so much of it is verbatim dialog from the episode Prophecy Girl. There _are_ differences, and that was the hard part, figuring out where and what to change without making it sound unnatural. Hopefully it doesn't feel too much like reading a transcript. Also, just wanted to mention again that the dates I use to place the events in a timeline are the episode airing dates.

One more thing: I don't have a set pairing in mind for The Angel's Heir. I kind of go with what comes naturally. Just because one has a thing for another _now_ doesn't mean they always will, and vice versa. They're still teenagers, after all.

.

* * *

.

**01 June, 1997.**

"Uh, okay. Um. How's this? We've been friends a long time now, and, uh, I've been having these, these feelings for you for a while now, and, uh...it sucks, doesn't it?" Xander gave her a pleading stare.

Buffy kept her face carefully neutral. "No, it...it works."

"Works. Works? No, that's not good enough. I need to, um, _wow _her. Woo? Woe? What's the word?"

She sighed. "In this case, I think 'wow' is the right term for it."

He nodded, still in panic mode. "God, this is _way_ too hard. I mean, what's wrong with just, just walking up to her and asking 'Hey, Wills, how about me and you go to the Spring Fling together, dance, maybe, um, maybe..." He faltered, blushing. Then in a quiet voice continued. "It's stupid, isn't it? She, she doesn't even think of me as a guy. Just best friends."

"Trust me, she knows you're a guy." She rolled her eyes.

"Does she? Maybe someone already asked her out. Like, like Jonathan Levinson. Did I mention I hate that guy? Beady little eyes and short, too short to be natural." He glanced at Buffy, apparently noticing something in her expression. "Uh, not that being short is bad. Or that you're short. Or, um, hey, Buffy, mind slaying me right now before I lodge my foot permanently in my mouth?"

"I'm seriously considering it." She pursed her lips and smoothed out her scowl. Then she gathered her purse and stood up. "Anyway, I gotta go. Patrol."

He nodded. "Good luck! Oh, wait, am I supposed to say that? It's not like in the theater where you tell people to break a-"

"No, and finish that sentence and you probably _will _jinx me." She smiled to take the edge off the comment. "See you later."

Sometimes she really couldn't stand Willow.

.

She had roughly twelve ways of gently annoying Giles, so far, most of which she varied the version of to keep him on his toes. Music was one, especially during training. Mangling demon names was another, and mangling grammar in particular was the main one. Talking about shoes and fashion during briefings on horrors was a favorite.

Sometimes she just went with the overly cheerful approach, though, to see if she could get him to clean his glasses in record time. Something about people being chipper and perky _really_ got his goat.

This morning had been different. She'd gone in to report on the three vampires she'd taken down after leaving Xander at the Bronze, one of which had almost been inside the school, and Giles had been...

...weird.

He'd blamed it on being tired and having worked, but he kept jumping at shadows and reacting oddly to everything she said. Well, if it was important to her, he'd probably let her know. In the meantime, she had bigger worries.

Like biology.

And hormones.

.

"Well, _that _was boring." She wished she had a butterknife, just so she could try to cut the tension in the hallway.

Xander looked thoughtful. "I don't think 'boring' covers it."

He was right. When he was right, he was right. "No, boring falls short."

Willow nodded. "Even I was bored, and I'm a science nerd."

While true... "Don't say that."

Willow just smiled peacefully. "I'm not ashamed. It's the computer age, nerds are in...they're still in, right?"

Xander smiled, then gave Buffy a meaningful glare. "Buffy, didn't you have that thing with the stuff?"

For a moment she considered playing clueless, but he was so ridiculously wide open for abuse that it wouldn't be fun for anyone. "Right. The thing. Gotcha."

She wandered off a bit, far enough that even her hearing couldn't catch what they talked about. She watched them, though. And tried to ignore the weird bellyache she had. God, it was like Billy Fordham all over again. No, that, that wasn't it. At all.

Okay. Xander was talking. Nervously. Bad sign. Leading Willow to a nearby occupied bench, and whoa, nice going with the staredown there, that kid never knew what hit him. Right. Willow sitting. Xander standing...oh, no, he should be seated too! That was always good, that way you were close enough to kiss if things went well!

It was obvious he'd laid it out there. And Willow...Willow glanced over at her for some reason, and then she-

...things weren't going well.

Huh. That was not a _happy_ Xander face.

He just...deflated. Stared at the ground. Stared at Willow. Mumbled something. Glanced over at Buffy, and hey, what did _she _do! And Willow smoothed out her skirt, stood up, and gently touched his cheek, and then...and then walked off. And Xander just stood there, broken.

It took every ounce of her willpower not to go over there. Somehow she doubted he would take any friendly concern well right now.

And she watched him walk away, and wondered what she would have said if it had been her on that bench.

.

The sinks were bleeding. Literally. Which was ick and ew, and generally gross, but also, blood from unusual locations was a major omen. Even _she_ knew that, she'd seen Ghostbusters three times because Sigourney Weaver was awesome and dressed really well for an old woman in the 80's.

Giles had to know, in case he didn't already. He _might_, if he'd tried making tea in the last half hour or so.

Buffy pushed open the doors to the library. "Giles, you are _not_ gonna believe th-"

He was talking to someone in his office. Okay, Giles talking outside the group was unusual enough to be interesting. She peered inside.

Huh. Ms Calendar?

"...what if you're wrong?"

Giles sighed. "I've checked against all my other volumes, and the Codex is never wrong."

Ms Calendar was frowning. "Well there's gotta be _some_ way to make it not happen, I mean, prophecies exist so you can work _against_ them, right?"

"Listen. Some prophecies are, are a bit dodgy. They're, they're mutable. Buffy herself has, has thwarted them time and time again, but this is the _Codex_. There is nothing in it that does not come to pass." Giles' voice was so _tired_. Buffy paused by the office door, not quite close enough to be seen from within. This was something serious, wasn't it?

"Well, maybe you read it wrong or something?"

He let out a little desperate laugh. "I wish to God I did! But it's very plain, tomorrow night Buffy will face the Master and she will die."

Oh. What?

Buffy stood there, frozen. Die? She was gonna die? Well, of course she was gonna die _some_ day, but...they knew the _date_? Did, did they know how? Why? Did they, did they know what funeral a-a-arrangements mom would make? Would she even _get _a funeral?

She started to laugh, unable to stop. Inside the office, Jenny and Giles gave a start and looked up, and immediately got very guilty expressions. "So that's it, huh? I remember the drill, one Slayer dies, another takes her place, right? Wonder who she is. Are you gonna train her? Or will they send someone else?"

Giles opened his stupid mouth. "Buffy, I-"

"They say _how_ he's gonna kill me? D'you think it'll hurt?" Something wet was on her cheeks, stinging. Jenny reached out to her shoulder and she slapped the hand away. "Don't touch me! W-were you even gonna _tell _me?"

His expression turned gentle, apologetic. That just made it worse. "I was hoping I wouldn't need to. That there was some way around it. I-"

"I've got a way around it, I quit!"

Jenny looked puzzled. "You can do that?"

"Just watch me! I _quit_, I _resign_! I-I'm _fired_, you can find someone else to stop the Master from taking over!" Part of her knew she was being childish. But at the same time, this was her _life_. Deep down, she never believed the whole Slayer thing was all she was. Now she knew better. And it hurt. There was _nothing_ outside of her role, and when that ended, so did she.

"I'm not sure that anyone else can. All the...all the signs indicate-"

"The _signs_?" She stared at him incredulously, then picked up a book and _threw _it at him. _"Read me the signs!"_ She threw another. _"Tell me my fortune! You're so useful sitting there with all your books! You're really a lotta help!"_

He looked ashamed. "No, I don't suppose I am."

Jenny was frowning. "Buffy, I know this must be hard, I understand-"

"Oh? You know what day you're gonna die, too?" She glared at the woman.

"You think Giles doesn't care? You think he _wants_ this to happen? You have to let him find a way to-"

Buffy interrupted her. "I already did. I _quit_, remember? Pay attention."

"Buffy, if the Master rises-"

She felt sick to her stomach. "I don't _care!_ I don't care. Giles, I'm sixteen years old." She hated how her voice sounded so tiny, so _small_. "I don't wanna die."

They didn't answer her. So she turned on her heel and walked out.

.

* * *

.

They were playing a sad song on the radio. She would have changed the channel, but what was the point? She thought of calling Willow, but she probably had her own problems. Maybe Xander.

Maybe she _should_ call Xander and ask if he was...

But again, what was the point? What would she tell him? 'Oh, hey Xander, yeah, just wanted to talk, oh, did you know I'm destined to die tomorrow? Yeah, funny old world ain't it?'

"Hi, honey. You all right?"

...did that woman have a moping detector installed or something?

"Sure."

Her mother looked at her, her expression carefully neutral. "Just full from that bite of dinner you nearly had." She waited there for a moment, then continued. "Feel like telling me what's on your mind?"

"Mom, let's go away!" Buffy smiled, sitting up on her bed.

Joyce gave her a confused look. "What?"

"Anywhere, just for a while, over the weekend!" If they left town, they'd probably be safe enough, and, and she could _tell_ mom about what had been going on, maybe bend a fireplace poker to prove it or something.

Except her mother wasn't looking all that thrilled by the idea.

"Honey, I-"

Right, time to pour on the heavy artillery. "No, it'll be _great!_ You, me, mother-daughter bonding, we can talk about all the embarrassing things you love to bring up."

"You know the gallery's open on weekends." At this point, it was obvious that her mom was not buying it. And yet she had to.

"Mom, please!" If they could escape all this, if they got away, maybe, maybe things would still be all right?

"Isn't the prom tomorrow night? Or Spring Fling, whatever they're calling it." The look of understanding hurt.

And Buffy hadn't thought about that, not _really_, but now she did. "I-I guess."

"Nobody asked you?"

Buffy hesitated. "...no."

This was followed by a gentle smile. "But you wanted some_one _to ask you?"

"...maybe?" Yeah. Maybe.

Joyce gave her that gentle smile of understanding again. "And you don't want that someone to see you unhappy about it. See, sometimes I actually _do_ know what you're thinking." She stood again, and went over to the closet. "Well, then, uh, this probably isn't the best time for this, but, uh..."

The gown was gorgeous. And probably expensive. And gorgeous.

Did she mention gorgeous?

"I saw you eyeing it at the store, and I figured..."

Buffy wanted to be speechless, but the first thing out of her mouth was so practical it made her head spin a little. "Mom, we can't afford this."

Joyce smirked. "The way you've been eating lately, we can."

It was beautiful. She said so while touching the smoot, glossy material, and her mother said something that didn't register at first, but then-

"T-the dance? No, I-I-I can't go."

Joyce raised her eyebrows. "Says who? Is it _written_ somewhere? You should do whatever _you_ want. Homecoming, my freshman year of college. I didn't have a date, but I got dressed up and went anyway."

"Was it awful?"

Joyce looked a little smug. "It was awful. For about an hour."

Okay, now she was curious. "What happened?"

"I met your father." She smiled wistfully. Maybe she missed him, even considering his cheating cheaty affairs. Maybe it was _that_ guy she missed. The one who didn't cheat on her.

"He didn't have a date either?"

"Oh, he had a date. And that's a _much_ funnier story that you will never get to hear if I have my way. Oh, but it was a beautiful night!" Joyce let out a happy sigh.

That gnawing ache returned. "And you had your whole life ahead of you."

"Yeah," Joyce said.

"Must be nice."

And then she left the room, letting Buffy try the gown, because, because maybe she could go anyway, and maybe someone _would_ be there in spite of what had happened earlier, and-

And then her mother rushed back in, , and let her know that Willow was on the news.

.

The sun was going down, and the light from outside slowly dimming. If she was being totally impartial, it looked kind of strange. The blonde girl in the gorgeous gown, comforting the crying girl in frumpy sweater and too-big jeans with flowers sewn on the butt. Right now she was being as partial as was physically possible, though, because one of her best friends was crying.

"I've seen so much." Willow's voice was wan, for lack of a better word. Wan. Like those heroines in old-timey movies. "I thought I could take anything, but, Buffy, this was _different_."

Buffy had always preferred Buttercup, herself. More of a buttkicker in spite of being seen as just the pretty one.

She looked at Willow, seated on the bed and hugging her knees like a shield against the world. She'd been with her through thick and thin, fought crazy body-stealing witches, bug ladies, all kinds of badness. But she probably never had to face the results of those things, on her own, before. And while part of Buffy was still kinda pissed about whatever the girl had told Xander to crack his happiness in half like that, Willow was her _friend_. Nobody deserved to have their view of the world taken away and replaced with horror.

And all she had to offer was platitudes. "It'll be all right."

Willow was staring at the wall as if it had answers. "I'm trying to think of how to say it...to explain it so you'll understand."

She understood. She still remembered the first time she saw a friend that had been killed by vampires. Lothos' work, in that case. "You're safe. That's all I care about."

And it was. Her friends alive...that was worth any sacrifice.

_Any _sacrifice.

"I'm _not_ safe! Nobody's safe. I _knew_ those guys, I go to that room every day. And when I walked in there...they took it away from me. It's not our world anymore. They made it theirs." A huge tear fell down her cheek. "They had _fun_. W-what are we gonna do?"

And Buffy _knew_. She knew what had to happen, what had to be done. There was nobody else. There was no justice. Just her.

"What we have to." She stood up, smoothing out a few imaginary wrinkles in her dress. Let out a breath. Weirdly enough, she felt...relaxed. Calm. "Promise me you'll stay in tonight, okay?"

If Willow didn't...well, Xander would never forgive Buffy if anything happened to the object of his stupid affections. Willow nodded, but then called out, softly. "Buffy?"

Buffy stopped, turned a little.

"...I like your dress." Willow smiled bravely. Okay, maybe Xander _wasn't_ so stupid after all.

Buffy looked down at it, then smiled, or tried to. "Thanks. Take care, okay?"

And she left the house, and knew what she had to do.

.

She would have been at the library sooner, but a dumb, thoughtless side of her made her stop at a payphone. Buffy put in a quarter, silently blessing the fact that they hadn't replaced the booth with one of those modern ones that only took credit cards. She dialed. The phone rang on the other end.

"_...h'lo?"_ Xander sounded rough, as if he'd been sleeping or crying. She didn't know which would be worse. _"Hello?"_

She...

...didn't know what to say. In fact, she shouldn't have called.

"_...who is this? Hello?"_

She hung up. Took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued on towards the school.

.

"...well, that depends where he's leading them _to_. Aurelius wrote of the Anointed One, 'The Slayer will not know him, and he will lead her into Hell.'"

She could hear Ms. Calendar's voice cut in. "So Luca thinks the Anointed is a kid."

"If the vampire that Buffy killed was in fact not the Anointed, then it may well be."

"Well, then we need to warn her."

"I don't intend on involving her at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy's not going to face the Master. _I _am."

She finally reached the doors and strode in. "No, you're not." The two turned to face her, looking surprised. Why? It was already written, wasn't it? "So, I'm looking for a kid, huh? And he'll lead me to the Master?"

Giles frowned, removing his glasses. "Buffy, I'm not going to send you out there to _die_. Now, you were _right_. I-I've waded around in these old books for so long, I've forgotten what the _real_ world is like. I-it's time I found out."

She nodded. "You're still not going up against the Master."

He turned his version of resolve face on. She'd be intimidated, but Willow did it so much better. "I've made up my mind."

"So have I."

For the first time in...ever, he actually lost his composure. "I made up my mind first! I'm _older_ and _wiser_ than you, and just... just do what you're _told_ for once! Alright?"

Resisting the urge to grin at him, she shook her head. "That's not how it goes. I'm the Slayer."

"I don't _care_ what the books say. I _defy_ prophecy, and I _am_ going. There's nothing you can say that will change my mind." And he did look resolved. Firm. Resolute.

"I know." This was gonna hurt him a lot more than it hurt her.

Turning as if to leave, she balled up her fist and let fly, knocking him down cold. As Giles fell to the floor, Ms. Calendar rushed up, shocked. Buffy waited for her to check on him, then sighed. She pulled out the cross Xander had given her, staring at it. A simple gift. From a boy who needed more friends.

Okay. She could be his friend. Just his friend. Nothing else. Even if it hurt.

Ms. Calendar looked up, still stunned. Buffy looked at her unconscious Watcher and wished it had gone differently. "When he wakes up tell him – I dunno. Think of something cool, tell him I said it."

The teacher frowned. "You fight the Master, and you'll die."

"Maybe." She picked up a heavy crossbow from where Giles had been preparing for war. "Maybe I'll take him with me."

Buffy walked out. If they were safe, it would all be worth it. No matter what happened. She didn't want to die...and what was that saying Xander had used at some point, something from those Clingy guys from Star Trek...uh...'It's a good day to die'?

No.

It was a good day for the _other _guy to die.

.

It didn't take long to find the Anointed one. He'd been a sweet-looking kid in life, and was probably thinking to use it against her. The old 'help me, miss, I'm in trouble and alone'-routine. Like she hadn't staked half a dozen Claudia-wannabes in her short career already.

"Help me..." He wasn't a very good actor, though.

Buffy lowered the crossbow, rolling her eyes. "Whatever." Walking over she made certain the bolt was locked before nodding at him. "Like I don't know who you are..."

The demon held out his hand. Buffy looked at it, briefly, then sighed and took it.

Together, they started on their path to whatever would be next.

.

The Master's lair was kinda cozy. Candles everywhere, rock walls, a few old signs of the church it had been. The crosses were still there, understandable since the vamps couldn't touch them without burning their widdle handsies.

Really, it was more like a nice, comfy hacienda than anything else. Apart from the whole undead prince of darkness vibe they had going.

"Welcome." The voice came from everywhere. Neat trick. Made it harder to pinpoint his exact whereabouts. Well, no point being rude...

"Thanks for having me." And _there _he was. Ugly as sin. Face only a mother bat would love. No, wait, bats were cuter. "Y'know, you really oughtta talk to your contractor. Looks like you got some water damage."

Obviously, Buttface thought he was unseen, because he rolled his eyes. "Oh, good. The feeble banter portion of the fight. Why don't we just cut to the-" The crossbow quarrel _almost_ got him. Almost. But apparently he was as fast as she was, because he plucked it out of the air just before it hit his heart. "...nice shot."

"Thanks." She reloaded, not taking her eyes off of him.

The Master smirked. "You're not going to kill me with that thing."

"Well, if that doesn't work I might have to try harsh language. Maybe even cutting sarcasm."

He didn't let her comments confuse him for more than a moment. His smirk deepened, and dear Lord, he could look even uglier. "You still don't understand your part in all this, do you? You are not the hunter. You are the lamb."

Then he melted into the shadows again.

Damn it.

.

The lair was a warren of tunnels, and her enhanced hearing and sense of smell were next to useless down here. She did find a few of the Master's dinners, though. When this was all over she should get Giles and Xander to accompany her back down with a few gallons of gasoline and a few boxes of matches.

But one thing at a time.

"You know, for someone who's all powerful, you sure do like to hide."

She could almost hear the smug smirk on the vamp. "I'm waiting for _you._ I want this moment to last."

"Well, I don't." She looked around. Sneaky devil.

"I understand." The voice came from right behind her, and she turned around just in time for a powerful fist to knock away her crossbow and a clawed hand to encircle her neck.

"Gack." One hand struggled uselessly at the uncannily powerful grip, far stronger than Luke's, but she knew how to get out of chokeholds now, Giles had shown her, so she lashed out with her arm at his pivot point, knocking his hand away, and then scrambled back out of his reach.

_Come._

She froze.

_Come._

Raised her head. He motioned for her to approach him, and...

_Come._

Oh, God. Those eyes.

_Be in me, child._

She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Everything was darkness.

Everything was _him_.

The Master. _Her_ Master.

She took a step towards him. And another. And another.

He smiled at her. The world was that smile, so terrible and so grand. A clawed hand caressed her cheek. She was panting, hard. Trying to break free from the cloying, vile, oily blackness that held onto her.

"You tried. It was noble of you. You heard the prophecy that I was about to break free and you came to stop me. But prophecies are tricky creatures. They don't tell you everything." He leaned in close, briefly, to whisper. "You're the one that sets me free!" He leaned back again, grinning. "If you hadn't come, I couldn't go." His voice dropped into another whisper, a smug hissing that skittered across her spine. "_Think _about that!"

He calmly walked around her, as if inspecting a piece of prime beef.

Oh God.

She wished...she wished...

She wished Xander was here. No, she wished he was far away. And then there was a sharp pain in her neck, and-

The world.

Faded.

Distantly, she heard the Master crowing about power, then a smug comment about her dress, but she was falling, falling, into blackness and cold and wet and she couldn't breathe and then she could so she took a breath and there was no air, just wet and-

.

* * *

.

_Ow._

Her chest ached.

Her lungs felt thick, stuffed full of taffy.

Buffy opened her eyes and stared into the most beautiful brown eyes in the history of mankind.

"Buffy!" Oh. He was so _pretty_. And she-

She turned on her side and threw up. Oh, great. What a romantic moment.

Buffy spat out grit and dirt and foul-smelling water, then sat back, confused. Wait, why was _Xander_ here? Oh, and Angel.

Xander smiled at her gently, stroking her forehead. His warmth almost felt burning to the touch. "Buffy..."

Okay, seriously, why _was_ _he_ here? And his vampire buddy. "Xander?"

He grinned. "Welcome back."

Two pairs of hands grabbed her by the arms and helped her up. She swayed a little, and Xander kept his grip long enough to help steady her. "Easy. Easy."

Where the heck was her balance? Oh, there it was!

_Hello, balance, I missed you!_

She looked around. "The Master?"

Angel was frowning. The guy was always frowning. Except when he talked about Xander, which was _way _creepy. ""He's gone up"

She made to go, and Xander looked at her with concern. "...you sure?"

He was so sweet. _Damn_ it. As if her life wasn't complicated enough. "Yeah. I feel _strong_. Different." She gave them a glance. "Let's go!"

.

She could almost _sense_ him. Like a moving dot of gross against the background of yuck that was the Hellmouth. So she had an internal slaydar now. _That_ was new. Or old, considering how much Giles had nagged her about not having it. Maybe she'd been Slayerized wrong from the start or something. Merrick _had_ mentioned that they should have found her earlier. Heck, she could even sense Angel behind her, all cold.

A disturbance in the Force. Heh. _Man_, she was getting her geek on tonight.

Outside the air was crisp, fresh. A nice change to the dank, mildewy stink of the Master's lair. And yeah, there were beasts all around. Mostly vampires. A few on their path, but nothing they couldn't handle. Oh, wait, just one, now. The rest were heading into the school.

"So, how do you know where the Master's going?" Xander was trying to keep pace, and his undead brooding buddy was close behind.

"I know." When the lone vamp that had stayed behind to snack on them jumped out from behind the bushes, she smacked him down hard. "Oh, look, a bad guy."

She continued on while Xander and Angel finished it off, then ran to catch up with her.

.

Inside was not as vampire-heavy as she had expected. She could hear the sound of violence far off, but couldn't let it distract her. Not now. She'd gone down to the Master, and she sure as hell wasn't dead. Take _that_, 'prophecy's never wrong'!

...didn't hurt that for some reason Xander had arrived like a knight in Hawaiian shirt armor. Um. Not so much a knight as a squire. Her squire. Yeah. With his creepy sidekick.

...seriously, what _was _Angel's deal?

She stopped by the stairs to the roof. Above her, she vaguely felt Nest's presence, but the whole thing was already fading. It felt almost as if she'd gotten some kind of Slaydar ping, like on an actual radar, when she woke up, and now it was fading out again.

"Okay, you two wait here, keep the rest of the vampires off me."

Xander nodded. "Right. Angel, get your brow on."

Angel smirked and vamped out. "Ready."

She looked at them once again. Maybe lingered a little on one of them. "One way or another, this won't take long."

.

She watched the Master for a few seconds. He was standing there hands spread wide, like a demented preacher, and then clapped them together with glee. "Yes! Come forth, my child, come into my world!"

Okay, that just wouldn't fly. "I don't think it's yours just yet."

He whirled around, shocked. "You're dead!"

Buffy gave him a faintly patronizing look. "I may be dead, but I'm still pretty. Which is more than I can say for you."

"You were destined to die! It was written!" Wow. He did _not _take this well, did he?

She shrugged carelessly. "What can I say? I flunked the written."

And there it was.

_Come..._

He reached out his hand, beckoning to her again. "Come here!"

_Come..._

She walked towards him, slowly. When she was within reach, he grabbed her by the throat yet again. "Did you really think you could best me here when you couldn't below?"

He dropped her.

_Come..._

**NO.**

She tilted her head to the side and studied his ugly mug. "You have fruit punch mouth."

The Master blinked. "What?"

The first punch sent him sprawling. _God_, that felt good. "Save the hypnosis crap for the tourists."

He tried getting up, only to get a kick in the face. Not that it improved anything.

Lashing out, he only barely managed to graze her upper chest, drawing a thin line of blood as she dodged the blow. She retaliated with a punch in his side, not so much for damage as to push him off balance. Vampires didn't really care if their kidneys got smushed.

Unfortunately he was ready, and got a nice hit in on her face, staggering her. When she tried to press for a new advantage, he blocked it and nailed her on the nose, sending her backwards. The wall she hit was not soft.

The Master sneered. Not like he could do much else. The man's entire face was a permanent sneer. "Where are your jibes now?"

She kippuped to her feet, then somersaulted above him to land between him and the skylight. Another try to unbalance him, this time with a side snap kick, but he recovered too quickly and managed to grab her neck again. Really, that part was _way_ annoying.

...and he was standing in front of the skylight. And as he held her there, she glanced back and saw an upended broken table in the library below, lots of sharp wooden bits aimed up.

Buffy grinned.

The Master peered at her curiously. "You laugh when my Hell is on Earth?"

Time to do unto others. See how _he _liked it. She reached out and grabbed him by the neck. "You wanna send us all to Hell? _You first_."

With every ounce of strength she yanked hard, using herself as a leverage point. A normal human would never be able to do it, but she wasn't normal. She was the freaking _Slayer_, and this guy? He was bush leagues.

So he soared gracefully in an arc, letting go in some misguided belief that he could land safely, but instead he smashed through the skylight and fell down on the broken table.

_Shunk._

Oh, ew. She could never sit by that table again. Gross.

As the Master slowly turned into a smoldering skeleton, she glanced down at the library, catching a glimpse of something vile slithering into a hole in the floor. Giles was getting off the ground, nursing his injuries.

All done.

.

Buffy caught up with Xander and Angel by the stairs. Angel was giving Xander odd looks, and Xander in turn looked a bit confused. She smiled at them, then headed down to the library.

...seriously, if Angel wasn't gay she'd eat her favorite Guccis.

She had to wait for them to clear their improvised barricades to enter, first, and to her surprise she found Cordelia there alongside them all. The cheerleader held a big axe in her hand, then dropped it with a disgusted look and went over to the doors to look outside.

The Master's bones were still smoldering faintly, but hadn't gone away with the rest of him. Was that important? Vampires just went poof, usually, but not this guy. Weird.

Giles put his glasses on, inspecting the damage with a frown. "The vampires?"

Cordelia poked her head back inside. "Gone."

Angel looked at Xander, but his question was addressed to Giles. "The Master?"

"Dead. The Hellmouth is closed. Buffy..." He waited a few moments, then called out again. "Buffy?"

She gave a start. "Oh! Sorry. It's just been a really weird day. I died and everything."

"Yeah." She glanced over at Xander. He looked out of it. Freaked, even.

Willow nodded blankly, not getting it. "Wow! Harsh."

Giles, on the other hand, must have caught something in their eyes. He smiled at her gently. "I should have known that wouldn't stop you."

Buffy returned the smile. Okay, Xander was still _way _too nervous. And adorkable.

"So what now?" Ms. Calendar brushed some goop off her pants.

Giles looked around again. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd like to get out of this place. I don't like the library very much anymore."

Xander raised a hand. "We could go to the Bronze?"

This caused an eager nod from Cordelia. "Yeah!"

Willow looked at Buffy. "Buffy?"

What the heck. You only lived twice. "Sure! We saved the world, I say we party." She looked down at her dress, a little soiled but not badly so. "I mean, I got all pretty."

"And what about him?" Ms. Calendar waved a hand at the Master's bones.

"He's not going anywhere. Loser."

.

She watched her friends. Cordelia and Willow, of all people, were almost bonding. Almost.

Ms. Calendar and Giles...yeah, there was a serious vibe there.

Angel was brooding in the background until Xander went up to him and said a few words. It was almost painful to see Angel's face go from grumpy cloud to slightly confused smile. Yeah, he was _so _gay. Poor guy. Crushing on Xander like that.

...her stomach rumbled. "I'm hungry."

Xander was talking to Cordelia about the car parked halfway through the school, Giles and Ms. Calendar bickered about dancing, Willow was chatting with Angel, and she was hungry. Well, easy to solve _that _problem. "Anyone else hungry?

Nobody was listening. Did the Bronze still have those spicy buffalo wings? "I'm really, _really _hungry."

As they left the school, Xander hung back a little, smiling awkwardly. "Uh...nice dress."

She smiled at him, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Thanks."

Then she looked to make sure none of the others were looking back, reached up on tippy-toes and kissed him on the cheek, gently. Skip-hopping ahead, she barely noticed the stunned expression on his face.

_Yup. I still got it._

_._

* * *

_._

**End Pneuma.**

**Continued in Ecdysis**

.

**Author's Notes 2:** Teenage love. Gotta hate it.


	9. Ecdysis I

**A/N:** This is the _third_ part in the Angel's Heir series. Character perspectives will vary. As for romantic pairings, teenage Slayer crushes aside I'm not entirely sure. The story might go any which way. Probably not Angel/anyone, mainly because in this AU, he's well aware of what romantic love can lead to for him, but other than that, all I can say is that people, especially young people, sometimes act against their own interests or desires for wildly differing reasons, and just because a person says or _thinks_ they feel a certain way, doesn't mean that they do. People are confusing beasts.

And no, things won't end the same way as canon. The changes are small, now, but they will slowly ramp up and get bigger.

In weirder news, this story vanished from the Buffy fic listings. Not kidding. All of a sudden it couldn't be found, at all. Still on the site, just not included in the listings. Conspiracy theories abound, and I'm personally suspecting the Pentavirate.

* * *

.

"_My child arrived just the other day  
He came to the world in the usual way  
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay  
He learned to walk while I was away  
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew  
He'd say 'I'm gonna be like you dad  
You know I'm gonna be like you'"_

-Harry Chapin, "Cat's in the cradle"

.

* * *

.

Summer came and went. In California this meant a lot of time at the beach using the cold Pacific water to cool off from excruciatingly hot days, lots of frozen yoghurt and cool soft drinks, standing around in the supermarket just to take advantage of the A/C, and, oh yeah, bumming around.

It also meant, weirdly enough, an actual break from the darker side of things. Only, that meant a new focus on things that were a lot trickier, like...

...friends.

.

Things were awkward between Xander and Willow. Just as he'd always feared, telling her how he felt _had_ ruined their friendship, or at least driven a honking great wedge through it.

It still hurt to think about it. So he didn't.

Instead he spent most of his afternoons at Angel's place, learning to fight. And dance. Which was _still_ weird. Though the one time Angel had showed him his attempts at more _modern_ dancing it had sent Xander laughing until his sides hurt. The term 'flailing about like a baboon on crack' came to mind.

It was a vampire-free summer, not counting the one with a soul. After the Master snuffed it, the undead of the town vanished from sight. Even Angel couldn't find any who were actively on the prowl. It was actually kind of nerve-wrecking, knowing that they were out there but couldn't be seen or heard from. Like the crazy lady who'd grabbed him to re-enact some sick, twisted version of All In The Family. After Buffy beat the crap out of her goons, she'd gone off the radar, and like with the rest of the Hellmouth problems it made the hair on the back of his neck tingle.

Ironically, after Angel helped them during the whole Buffy-thing, Giles and the gang seemed more accepting. Well, maybe not Buffy, but she was in LA over the summer.

She _really_ had to drop her whole 'Angel isn't trustworthy'-routine. Even if Angel had it all wrong about Xander and her, he wasn't a spy or evil or anything.

_You love her._

Well...yeah? She was his best friend, aside from Willow. Of _course_ he loved her. He loved Giles too, in a strictly platonic and not-at-all romantic or sexual way because that kind of thinking only paved the way for brain-breakage.

Still, he did sometimes wonder what would have happened if he hadn't gone to check on Giles that night. If he hadn't gone to grab Angel to help him find his way down.

Romantically, though, Angel was _way_ wrong. Buffy? And him? _Pfft_, yeah, sure, and next he'd have some _other_ hottie chase him around, like Cordelia or someone. Hah. _That'd _be the day. No, Angel was way off on that one.

_Way _off.

.

He ran into Willow, occasionally, when visiting Giles. Reading the big, heavy tomes of demons and ghoulies was dry stuff, but sometimes little gems ran out and tweaked his nose, like the ones about fairies or dragons.

But mostly it was all vampires this, demons that, blah blah bitty blah.

Angel was nagging him to keep up his grades, too. Sometimes that guy was such a...

...pain in the neck. Heh. He'd have to use that one. Angel would smirk.

But whenever he _did_ run into her, she was all awkward and apologetic and he didn't _want_ that, he wanted his _Willow_ back, the girl who giggled like crazy in that low chuckle when you tickled her, the girl who went all spaz when you made frog sounds, the girl who shone like the sun when he danced the Snoopy dance once a year.

He wanted his friend back.

An irrational part of him blamed it on Buffy. She'd messed up the dynamic, somehow. Harshed his vibes. But if he was truly, brutally honest, like Angel had been when he told him about his crash-and-burn – he'd given Xander a smack over the back of his head – the only one who had messed up his and Willow's friendship had been him.

What was it she'd said, that she would have _loved_ to hear those words a few weeks ago? Then something about Buffy that he'd tuned out because he was too busy focusing on how she'd just said 'no'. Then she said she'd had a think-through after the Malcolm-Moloch thing, and had realized that the fluttering in her stomach she'd gotten at the thought of this Malcolm liking her had been different from what she felt with Xander.

And that, said Willow, was when she had realized she _didn't_ really like him like that.

That had hurt. A lot. But she was right, probably. The crush was _his_ stupid one-sided thing, and sharing it had been the worst possible thing to do.

Ironically, if he hadn't been looking for Buffy to help him get back in Willow's graces, he would never have found unconscious Giles and found out about the prophecy.

.

He patrolled. Not _alone_. Angel would keep a close eye on him, from a short distance usually, Xander acted bait and Angel swooped in and beat the crap out of them. Sometimes Xander got a hit or two in, but that never did much other than distract them a bit. Hitting a vampire was like hitting a dead body, which, technically, it was.

The trick to it all was that they never registered that _Angel_ was a threat. At most – if they noticed him in the first place which was rare – they thought he was a rival for the food. So they spotted Xander, checked for anything that might be a trap, and then they went for him. At which point Angel would come in as the undead cavalry and smack them down while Xander got the stakes ready.

Even so, they'd only gotten three vampires all summer, and that was in the places that were normally hotspots. Autumn arrived, and still not a peep. Not even a single 'I vant to zak yohr blaahd!'...

Which was why when one charged Xander from behind the bushes one mid-September Monday, the day before school started, he was actually _surprised_.

.

* * *

.

**September 15th, 1997.**

He tucked and dropped to the ground, like Angel had taught him, keeping his hands and legs close to his body and protecting his neck with both arms. His clothes were fairly tight, enough to make for few handholds, just a dark sweater and an old pair of jeans, the color was to hide any bloodstains. God, he hoped there wouldn't be any bloodstains. Tony would blow a gasket.

But instead of the expected feral roar and dark blur that always followed, there was a blur of pink and blue and blonde, and a quick "Hi, Xander!"

...Buffy?

.

"...which was so _totally_ lame, and then dad says 'Well you could always stay with me permanently' and what do you say to that? I mean, he cheated on mom and kinda ignored me for a while and he's dating a girl who's like, only three years older than me which is gross, so I told him I'd think about it and then I'll make up some excuse for why I can't and that'll be that. I love him, but _man _he's clueless sometimes." She paused her long tirade that would have made even Willow applaud, and smiled brightly at Xander. "So how was _your_ summer?"

He blinked. "Um..."

"Xander, you all right?" Angel leapt in from behind a crypt, stopping instantly as Buffy's stake almost took him down. "Whoa. It's just me, relax."

She gave him a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Just keep your hands and fangs where I can see'em. As for Xander, he's _fine_. No thanks to _you_, Captain Forehead."

Angel looked confused, then reached up to touch his forehead gingerly.

Xander grimaced. "Hey, lay off him, he's a good guy!"

She lowered the stake, but didn't take her suspicious glare off of Angel. "If you say so. Me, I'm always sleeping with a stake under the pillow."

Angel's frown turned into an amused blank look.

"So, um, you're back. That's great! Isn't it?" Xander sat back on a tombstone, trying not to think about what he was sitting on.

She shrugged, smiling at him. "Well, can't leave you guys all alone, now can I? Never know what sorts of _untrustworthy_ types are hanging about."

He couldn't help noticing her glance at Angel at that last.

Xander sighed. Oh yeah. Things were definitely _interesting_ now.

.

* * *

.

It didn't take long for Buffy to notice the vibe. And there _was_ one, she wasn't imagining things. It was all in the little things, that all added up to major bummerage. And the big things.

She met up with Xander in front of the school the next day. And as they walked up the stairs, she saw Willow. Naturally, she called out. Willow turned, smiled, then went a little red and looked away when she noticed Xander.

Xander went pale, and stared at the ground.

Yeah. Not exactly subtle, those two.

So, okay, his attempt at asking her out had ended badly, but that didn't mean they had to stop hanging, did it? They could remain friends, right? Right?

But it became increasingly obvious that Mr Awkward and Shy Lass were two very socially inept superheroes, which meant Buffy to the rescue. _Somebody _had to get those two idiots a clue-by-four.

And she knew who to start with. The easiest target.

.

"Okay, spill."

Willow froze. "W-w-what?"

They were seated on the couch in the living room at Buffy's house, getting ready for the Bronze. Or at least, that was the excuse Buffy had given her when inviting Willow over.

"You and Xander. What happened?"

That shade of red really shouldn't be physically possible in a human being. Especially one who was so pale to begin with. What sun block did Willow use, 10,000? Amazing.

"I-I-I-I-I d-don't know what you-"

"Okay, let me put it this way. He spent like a week working up the courage to ask you to the dance, and you told him no even though you've been mooning over each other since before I moved here. What gives? I would've thought you'd leap at the chance?"

Willow slumped. "Oh, God. I really messed up, didn't I? He-he-he just wanted to – and I – and then-"

"Single sentences, Will. Take a deep breath and tell Dear Buffy all about it." This should be good.

"Well, he...he asked, and I, I kind of blanked. Like, I know I've been sort of crushing on him forever, but, but after Malcolm I just kinda took what Sheila and Ira call a moment of introspection and that's when it hit me that I don't really feel _that_ way about him. Well, no, that's kind of a lie, I do, it's just...you know how when you see a really handsome guy and your stomach gets all fluttery?"

Buffy smirked smugly. "Oh yeah. Big time."

"Well, it's like that. Nothing specifically romantic, just...he's kind of sweet-looking and I've seen him shirtless a few times, and I guess I got a little confused. But with Malcolm, even if he was an evil demon, before I met the guy I actually felt something _different_. Like," her face turned speculative, "like how _you_ feel with Xander."

"Yeah, that's-" Buffy slammed her mouth shut, then glared. "No, that's not-"

"Uh-huh." Wait, when did this turn around on _her_? "I figured it out a while ago. You like him."

"W-w-w-well sure I do, I mean, we're friends-"

Willow just kept her amused snarky look. "Right. You always start stuttering about guys you just consider friends."

Great. Dandy. The battle was over as soon as it began. "Okay, _fine_. Yes. He _is_..."

"Hunky?" Willow grinned.

"Not exactly." Shake of head.

"Gorgeous." Confident.

"Seen better." Calm denial.

"Sweet?" Hopeful.

"More like awkward." Amused.

"Adorable!" Triumphant!

"Adorkable." Smiling.

Willow gave her a confused stare. "...so why do you like him?"

And therein lay the poodle's core. That was a very weird saying, by the by. _What _poodle? "I don't_ know!_" Buffy sighed. "I just do."

Willow sat back, then tilted her head a little. "Because he's a rock. A comfy, cuddly rock."

Buffy glared at her. "I wouldn't know. You have all the cuddling experience."

"Yup!" No shame whatsoever shone through Willow's beaming face.

"Ahhh, shaddup."

"Make me!"

They had to take another fifteen minutes. To fix the make-up that got messed up by the very brief, impromptu pillow-fight that stopped as soon as it began because Joyce poked her head in the room and _frowned_.

She had a good frown, that woman.

.

* * *

.

At the Bronze, she finally found the reasons. Well, a few of them. His eyes. His smile. The way he always hunched up when he would be pretty tall if he stood up straight.

...and good _Lord_, he had a butt that wouldn't quit.

"Oh, great, his keeper's here." Willow almost turned her head, but Buffy stopped her. "No, no, don't look. At the bar."

Willow pursed her lips. "So why do you dislike him so much?"

"Because he's undead? Because I have no clue why he's so protective of Xander? Because he won't tell us why he's helping?"

"Xander trusts him." Typical Willow, pointing out the flaws in her totally rational loathing.

"Yeah, well, sometimes Xander's an idiot." Like how he'd barely noticed her dress. How to make him notice that she was dressed to the nines tonight? She wanted to make him pop his eyes like the wolf in the cartoon, not moon over Willow from a corner.

"They're talking. You think guys compare notes, like we do?" Willow had, in spite of earlier admonishments, turned to look.

"No, they're clueless." She glanced. Just a glance. How come he never wore those ridiculous Hawaiian shirts when he was Bronzing? If he did, she could ignore him. But _no_, he wore dark sweaters or shirts, sometimes t-shirts when it was warm enough. He claimed it was because they gave few places to grab him during a fight. _Angel's_ idea, of course.

Not because it made his shoulders look great.

"Need a hankie for the drool there?" Buffy glared at Willow, who smiled smugly. "Just sayin'."

"You're evil, you know that?"

"Yup."

She turned to look again. What _were _they talking about? Oh, wait, Slayer hearing. If she could just tune out the general noise...

.

"...so how's the night treatin' ya? Any hot demon chicks I should threaten with a shovel?" Xander grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Angel, who frowned slightly.

"Me and romance don't get along."

"What? Why not? You're a single, undead guy in the prime of his death, not even three centuries old, no mutations, no evil plots to rule the world, your own place, steady income..."

Angel gave him that Look. The one that said Xander was being annoying. "Curse, remember?"

"Oh. Well, they say marriage is hell, so why _not _go for it? Happiness would be far off."

The vampire let out a slight bark of a laugh, shaking his head. Oh yeah, even he cracked a smile every now and then. "Not gonna let it go, are you?"

"Nope." Xander looked around the room, noticed Buffy and Willow by the table. He suppressed a wince at the sight. "Y'know, _Buffy's_ single, maybe-"

"No."

The flat refusal was actually a little curt. "Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Xander, she's _seventeen_. That's a little creepy, don't you think?" Angel gave him a mildly nauseous grimace.

"Age don't matter when it's _luuurv_..." He grinned, and dodged a half-hearted swat aimed at the back of his head. "Oh, c'mon, like you haven't noticed that she's a hottie. I think maybe you guys could have a love-hate thing going. You both think the other is an idiot, after all. It'd be epic, like Petruchio and Katherine!"

"I never should have introduced you to Shakespeare."

Xander's grin widened. "To thine own self be true."

For a moment he thought Angel would respond in kind, but instead his expression turned serious, even thoughtful. "Y'know, you seem awfully eager to pair us up..."

Great. _This_ again. "Hey, I just figured the two of you had lots in common, you both stalk the night, dress well, fight evil..."

"Right. Or you're scared." Angel smirked. "It took you, what, six months to gather up the courage to ask Wi-"

Xander's slight happy buzz vanished in a flash. "Don't."

Angel looked a little guilty, but continued. "Why are you so scared to talk to girls, Xander? Life is short. Go for it. If they're your friends, they won't abandon you if they don't return any romantic feelings. Go over and talk to them. Be their friend. Even if Willow doesn't-"

A hand grabbed Angel's shirt. "Hey, Dracula! Let's dance."

Xander blinked in confusion as Buffy dragged Angel out on the dance floor, just as the band started performing a slow, suggestive song.

And then proceeded to watch in stunned amazement as she, uh, _danced_.

Huh.

Okay.

Buffy really _was_ a girl.

He swallowed hard, almost scared to blink as she leaned in, whispered something to Angel, then marched off with barely a look behind her. Leaving a very confused-looking vampire behind.

What the..?

.

* * *

.

"She's possessed."

Willow nodded. "Yu-huh! You should have heard what she said to Cordelia!"

Xander turned away from Giles and looked curiously at her. "Was it good?"

"_Too _good. Like, really _mean_."

"Huh. Anyway, she's-"

The library doors opened and Buffy strode through purposefully. "The Master's gone."


	10. Ecdysis II

**A/N:** Did somebody say PTSD?

.

* * *

.

"Gone?"

Buffy nodded. "I went by the grave, it was empty. At first I thought, hey, could his skeleton crawl out on its own? But no, somebody dug him out. Several somebodies. The place _reeked_ of burned skin."

Giles frowned. "Ah. I-I-I had hoped consecrating the ground would be more effective..."

"Yeah, well, if you'd done a _good_ job of that we wouldn't be _having_ this conversation, now _would_ we?"

Both Xander and Giles flinched at the harsh remark. Willow looked from the one to the other, confused. Okay, Buffy had been tense since yesterday, but why was she being so _mean_?

"So what do we do?" Xander looked at her, curious. It was funny, but sometimes she thought Xander trusted her too much. And that wasn't just remnants of jealousy talking, that was common sense. Buffy was great, a good friend...but she sometimes didn't think things through. Like when the Master's minions went for Xander way back, and Buffy was busy making sure her mom was safe when the real danger was to Giles and Xander.

"_We_ don't do _anything_. Giles, look up if they could resurrect him or something."

Xander looked at her. "Angel could hel-"

She turned to him, her face cold. "I don't want the _vampire_ anywhere _near_ me. For all I know, he's in on it."

He stared at her, struck dumb. Willow blinked, and felt an unfamiliar emotion welling up.

Someone shouted. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!?"

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to stare. At Willow, who felt her cheeks burning and closed her mouth, realizing it had been her.

"Don't you kids have _classes_ to go to?"

She just about jumped out of her skin at the intrusion. Oh. _Snyder_.

.

"Snyder is a jackass."

Willow giggled dutifully. "He's a nincompoop."

Xander raised his eyebrows appreciatively for the creative insult. Plus, getting 'poop' in there, bonus.

Buffy frowned. "Could you guys keep it down? I'm trying to _research_ here."

They looked at each other, curiously. Since when did Buffy do research? Willingly? Still, they _were_ in the library and this _was_ kind of serious, so, why not? "Sure. Got anything?"

"No. Giles?"

Giles blinked, looking up from the big tome in his arms. "Hmm? Oh, er, yes. I, I may have something here. It's in Latin, and I'm a bit rusty, so...er, right, then. To revive the vampire they, er, need his bones," he glanced at Buffy, "w-which they have, and, um, the, er, the blood of...not quite sure, _propinque, propinquus_...the person closest...someone connected to the vampire."

"That'd be me." Buffy sighed.

"...er...perhaps."

Xander huddled up near Willow, lending support. She'd been quiet and embarrassed since her outburst, well-deserved though it may have been. Buffy really was being weird. Ever since yesterday. Angel was _still_ kind of pissed, and had refused to tell him what she'd said.

"I'm the one who killed his ugly mug stone dead. Don't get much closer than _that_."

Xander frowned. "Besides being his grand-child, or being the people standing right next to him? Which includes all the rest of us, except me I guess."

Buffy turned to say something, when the window broke and interrupted the argument with dire news indeed. Which sparked another argument, ending with Buffy storming out on her own.

.

She didn't want to admit it, but they had a point. Buffy stalked down the alley towards the Bronze' back entrance, frowning. She should have brought more stakes. If this was a trap, she could get, uh, get...

Pushing the gnawing ache in her stomach away from her conscious thoughts, she reached for the door and-

Whirled around, stake in hand. "Back off, _Vlad_."

Angel emerged from the shadows, frowning. "You need a hand?"

"Not from _you_."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I do _not _get what Xander sees in you."

She froze. Xander...talked about her? "W-why are you here?"

"Like I said, here to lend a hand." He gave her a crooked smile. Huh. A little like Xander's. "Not saying you _need _it, but you do."

"I can handle myself."

Angel shook his head. "You're not as strong as you think."

_You are not the hunter. You are the lamb._

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Think you can take me? Why not? Get another notch on your belt, _Angelus_. Yeah, I read the file on you. _Scourge of Europe_. Loved _torturing_ your food before you killed it. Nice _friend_ Xander's got, there, huh?"

He flinched at the mention of the names, but looked confused more than angry. "I'm not gonna _fight_ you."

Buffy smirked. "Wuss."

_Now _he got a little mad. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

...oh. Right. Cordelia. She felt her cheeks heat up. "I do." ...and turned around, opening the door. If the guy thought she was even _slightly_ worried about him, he was wrong. "Just keep out of my way."

.

Xander opened his eyes and regretted it instantly. His head hurt. His arm hurt. His chest hurt. Okay, _everything _hurt. And he couldn't move.

_Willow._

He heaved whatever was laying on top of him aside, staggered to his feet and leaned against a bannister while looking around the library. Oh God. Willow. They were gone. All of them. Willow, Giles, Ms Calendar.

Why didn't they take _him_? He was, he was like on the Master's old favorite targets list, why didn't they-

Oop.

Woozy. He grabbed better hold of the bannister, raised a hand to his forehead and winced as a sharp sting was followed by sticky on his fingers. Blood. Ow. Head injury. Not good. Could be a, a concussion. And now he remembered, Giles had said, right before they attacked...

The door slammed open and Buffy rushed in, palefaced. She turned even whiter when she saw him.

"Xander!"

He slapped away her hand as she reached for him. He regretted it instantly at the hurt look on her face, but her hurt feelings and his being a butthead were secondary to what was important here.

"What happened?"

He tried not to glare. "Vampires. The ones you could handle _yourself_."

Again she winced, and again he wanted to take the words back. He wasn't _Tony_, damn it. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know." He wanted to lash out, wanted to tell her this was all her fault, but...she already knew, didn't she? "If they hurt Willow..."

She shrank in on herself a little bit more. "Y-yeah. We, we just have to think. Where could they have taken them?" Then she frowned. "Why'd they take _them _and not _you_?"

"Because they wanted who was physically _closest_ when he died."

She nodded, realizing it herself. "So we need to find out _where_ they're holding them, and fast." Her face turned grim. "Good thing I have a possible lead."

.

By the time they reached the warehouse, the throbbing in Xander's head was fading to a low droning hum, and he wasn't getting spikes of nausea from bright lights anymore. Good thing, too, because after hearing from outside what Buffy did to that vampire at the Bronze, he wasn't sure he could keep his dinner down.

Not that he'd _had _dinner.

_Man_, he was hungry...and _that_ was a weird thought to have when the people he loved were in danger.

Angel dropped down from the roof. Being undead was kind of handy, sometimes. That old 'drop from a high rooftop and only make about as much noise as a cat'-trick. "About eight of them, not counting the leader or the Anointed One. They have all four gathered at the center of the main storage area. We better move quick, they're getting ready to..."

Buffy glared at him, and he faltered. Sometimes Xander wondered just how much it would _take_ to prove to her that Angel was a good guy. "Xander and you make sure the guys are okay and get them out of there. I'll distract them."

Angel frowned. "How?"

She grinned ferally. "Figured I'd _kill'_em all. _That_ oughta distract'em."

.

In the chaos of the fight, Xander stayed with Willow while Angel kept them safe. She was unconscious. God, she looked so _pale_. But she was warm, and had a pulse, so she would be fine. He hoped.

At some point, a vampire came up to grab them, and he just...saw red. The stake found its mark, and dust rained down around them. Score one for Angel's training. Not that he took the time to go 'Woo woo' at the victory, instead he kept covering Willow and occasionally shouting warnings to Angel and Buffy fighting the main group of baddies below.

Giles and Ms Calendar seemed pretty out ot it, too.

Hmm. Maybe they'd drugged them or something. But Ms Calendar was stirring, and Giles was almost sitting up by now, looking around in confusion. He took out his glasses, then frowned at a cracked lens. "Xander? Where-" Apparently he finally realized what was happening, because suddenly he ducked down. "Ah."

Xander nodded. "Is Ms Calendar okay?"

"Y-yes, I believe so." Even with that, Giles leaned over her to check. "Pulse is steady, and she seems to be waking up. Jenny? Can you hear me?"

She stirred slightly. "Mmf. J's ten m're m'nutes..."

"Jenny, you need to wake up."

She opened her eyes a little, her face sleep-slackened and a little grouchy. "Keep th' noise down, would ya?" Then her eyes opened wide, and she almost bowled Giles over as she sat up with a start. "Rupert? Where are we?"

A sudden crash interrupted her, and she turned to see. Angel was fighting a vampire, having smashed through a hole in one of the catwalks. There was a wail and a rain of dust. Angel looked up, at Xander. "You guys all right?"

"Yeah. Where's Buffy?"

Angel shrugged, a little amused. "I think she has issues."

A second after, a vampire flew through the air, shrieking and turning into dust as Buffy leapt after, her face contorted in a mask of fury.

"Enough!"

They all turned to stare. The vampire leader, a huge guy with a sledgehammer in his hands, was stalking in. The Annoying One was already gone. Funny how all the most dangerous vampires were mainly so because they were smart enough to run away.

Big and ugly continued. "Your day is _done_, girl. I'll grind you into a sticky _paste_, and hear you _beg_ before I smash in your face!"

Buffy turned, blew a stray lock of hair out of her face and raised an eyebrow. "And did that approach _ever_ get you dates in college?"

It didn't take the quip well. With a roar it rushed her, bringing out the sledgehammer as another vampire came at her from the side. Buffy glanced only briefly in either direction, then kicked a burning post hard enough to flip it into the air, grabbed it and staked the one from the side with the broken end, and then flipped it in time to impale the leader with the other end. The one that was on fire.

The vampire shrieked as his momentum drove him onto the improvised stake, burning up while turning to dust at the same time. Silence fell as the sledgehammer fell to the floor with a clang.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the deformed bones lying neatly on the floor within the by now useless ritual circle. Then she crouched down, grabbed the hammer and stood back up.

Willow blinked, finally waking. _What _a pretty sight. Even if she'd drooled a little. "Xander?"

"Shh. It's okay." He nodded to Giles, who smiled gently and took over Willow-waking duties as Xander stood up and headed down to where Buffy stood, staring at the bones.

The next moment Buffy screamed with rage and grief and frustration, the hammer rising and falling, turning the skull of the Master into so much dust and bone fragments pinging off the walls. Another blow, and the ribcage went, another and the pelvis, then the arms, the legs, the feet, and then a couple more blows for good measure

Next thing Xander knew, she was in his arms, crying. All he could do was hold her, pat her back a little awkwardly and murmur 'there, there' to her.

Above them, the others watched as Angel and Giles helped Willow to her feet.

.

* * *

.

Giles was, not entirely surprising, very understanding when Buffy apologized the next morning. Well, in a stuffy Brit sort of way, mumbling 'that's quite all right' and blushing a little while polishing his glasses.

Now came the _hard_ part. Apologizing to the guys.

"I don't think I can do it." Especially not to Xander. God, he had to think she was the _biggest_ weirdo, now. Freaking out like that.

Giles gave her a surprisingly dad-like look. "Hm? Of course you can."

"And tell'em what, 'Gee, sorry for almost getting your throat slit, what's the homework for today'?"

Gee, sorry for leaving snot trails on your shirt, Xand? By the way, wanna go to a movie or something? Oh yeah. The red nose and eyes and blotchy face she'd displayed was _such_ a turn-on. He'd swoon before her.

Giles frowned a little. "Punishing yourself is pointless."

"It's not! It's pointy! I was an _ass_. In just one day I almost got my best friend Willow killed, _and_ Xander..." She trailed off, not knowing what she wanted to say.

And Xander what?

"And instead you'll do what, then, live in a cave in the mountains?"

She smiled. "I dunno, does it come with cable?"

Giles let out a little huff that might have been a laugh. "Buffy..._yes_, you buggered it all right up. But _everyone_ makes mistakes. It's how we stand when we realize we _made_ them that makes us."

She glanced at him, then deliberately adopted a mock-whiny voice. "But that's _hard!_"

He smirked. "No-one ever claimed it wasn't."

Sighing, she shouldered her bag and looked at the doors of the school. They'd never looked this imposing before "Yeah, yeah. I...I'll see you later."

He muttered a few polite goodbyes and headed off in his own direction, probably already going through ways of torturing her with Akkadian Greek tomes on people with improbable names and boring stories.

.

When she got to class, the two people she least wanted to see – no, that wasn't entirely true, she _did_ want to see them – already sat in their seats near the back. Funny how when she was in Hemery, sitting near the back was the losers' seats. That was where the freaks, geeks, stoners and general outcasts sat.

That was _her_, now. A freak. An outcast. The girl who set fire to the gym and rambled about vampires and ran off to Vegas and came home crazy.

And somehow it didn't feel half as heavy on her soul as it once had. Visiting LA had, nightmares about the Master aside, proven the age-old saying about how you couldn't go home again. Oh, you _could_...if there still _was_ a home for you. But if your heart was elsewhere, how could it be home? None of her old friends had been the same. A few had died in the gym battle against Lothos' goons, most had gone on to become...well, not _less_ shallow, _that_ was for sure. Most of them made Cordelia look like Marie flippin' Curie in comparison.

Okay.

She could do this.

She'd gone to her own impending _death_ with less butterflies in her stomach.

Xander looked up, and she almost gasped. God, could he _stop _being cute? This was difficult enough as it was. He nodded and smiled, and she blinked, a little confused, as he turned back to the desk where he was apparently drawing something.

"Hey Buffy." Willow nodded at her.

"Hey."

Wow. Awkward. Xander said nothing, continuing with his work of art.

Getting closer, she noticed it was a rip-roaring drawing of what was probably meant to be Xander as a one-eyed pirate on a crudely drawn ship where a stick figure Buffy in a pirate captain's hat waved a saber and Willow with a chicken or parrot – feathered in a JFK hairdo – on her shoulder manned the rudder. The pirate-Buffy had a speech bubble attached, with the words 'Avast, landlubbers' in it.

"We saved you a seat." Willow smiled at her.

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch, and took the offered seat next to Willow.

Xander looked over at her, making his finishing touches on a ship's cannon firing a fiery cannonball at a monkey that had a suspiciously uncanny resemblance to Snyder. "So, uh, there's a rumor that Mr Cox is the most boring teacher to ever walk this planet. Willow claims he has trophies for it in his office."

Willow nodded, beaming.

Okay. Okay, the butterflies were turning into warm and fuzzy polar bears. "Like, _yes!_"

"Well, I hear he nods off a lot. So that's a plus!" Willow smiled even wider.

Xander grinned, then leaned back from his epic drawing. "So, uh, we Bronzing tonight?"

Willow frowned a little. "Wednesdays are kinda beat."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Huh. Well, I guess we could grind the bones of our enemies into a fine powder, but eh, it's been done."

The two turned to Buffy and grinned in such a goofy fashion that she couldn't help grinning back. Xander continued, "We could play miniature golf?"

"They shut the course down last year."

"Oh. Miniature tennis? A game we invent, with teeny tiny tennis rackets..."

She let the warmth take her away into the conversation that followed.

.

* * *

.

As he wandered through the wreckage of the battle and assessed the damage, The Anointed One found himself once again regretting a lot of things. Underestimating the Slayer. Underestimating her friends. Not making sure they couldn't be disturbed during the ritual, seriously, an old warehouse? _That_ was Absalom's best idea? What a dork.

He stopped by the remains of his sire, frowning. Well, they'd _never_ be able to resurrect him, _now_. Not enough pieces. Some had fallen in the drain and been washed out to sea by now. And the ritual was very specific, the bones _had_ to be complete and intact. Not _one_ fragment could be lost, even if you glued the whole thing together right.

Colin sighed. "I hate that girl."

Two slender, elegantly manicured hands encircled him from behind as Mother leaned into him.

"That's all right, my boy. We'll have our happy family soon. Mother, father, child."

Pijavica laughed.


	11. Ecdysis III

**A/N:** I have to admit, using angry anti-Angel thoughts introduced by other fic-writers in the mind of, for example, Xander, but using them as the thoughts of a character like _Buffy_ instead is _hilarious_. Like having Superman wondering about Lois Lane's secret identity or Bruce Wayne pranking Dick Grayson. It's just..._wrong_. And yet so amusingly right in context.

Poor Angel. No lovin' for the cursed guy.

.

* * *

.

**Monday, September 22, 1997.**

"Do you guys think there's such a thing as soul mates?" Willow was staring out the window with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Buffy frowned. "Nah."

Willow turned, surprised. "Really?"

"Think about it. Soul mates means we have no _choice_. Might as well just sit on our butts and veg until our chosen one comes a-knocking. I'd rather chase a guy _I_ like than be some passive drone with a pre-selected choice. It's, like, arranged marriages suck, right? So do they suck _less _just because some force called 'fate' did it?"

For a moment, it almost seemed Willow was about to disagree. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. "Never thought of it like that. Fate kind of blows, don't it?"

Buffy nodded. "Yuh-huh. Big time. Destiny sucks."

Xander leaned back, having finished stacking the fries in a primitive teepee. "Destiny shmestiny?"

She grinned. "Something like that."

He proceeded to break a fry up and place it into a vaguely humanoid shape on the plate, finishing by squirting some ketchup on it. He looked at them both and grinned. "Behold, the cruelties done to the Potato tribes of the old West."

Then he ate it all.

Buffy giggled as Willow protested against his making light of the atrocities done to the Natives, to which Xander defended himself with the fact that as far as he knew there _were_ no Potato tribes, and if there had been they probably had it coming for being so delicious.

Things went kind of downhill from there.

.

Patrol that night was dull and boring. Taking out the last of the Master's cult had once again gotten the nightlife to scurry back in the shadows, so she had to settle for hunting one of the newly turned. Some guy found dead from 'animal attack'.

All she had for company was her faithful yo-yo and boredom.

Buffy sighed. "C'mon, Stephan, get up already! Some of us have _school_ in the morning."

School. To which her friends went. Like Willow. And, and, and Xander.

Stupid hormones.

Yo-yo go up. Yo-yo go down. Walk the Dog. Around the World. Trampoline!

"So this is what a Slayer does when out patrolling, huh?"

She whirled, eyes narrowing. Oh. _That _guy. "Geeze, stick a _bell_ on you, would you? Soul or not, surprising me in the middle of the night is a good way to get yourself _staked_."

Angel shrugged. "I could handle it. So, what's the story tonight?"

Buffy glared at the headstone. "Stephan Korshak here is due to rise. Only he seems to be a late riser."

The vampire smirked. "That happens. I remember this one guy, always an early riser in life, got turned, woke up early again. Crawled out of his grave right into the evening sunlight. Lasted about fifteen seconds. Spike laughed his head off for days after."

"Who?" Buffy frowned. "Oh, right. William the Bloody. Charming company you kept."

"Yeah, Spike always found death and mayhem hilarious, no matter who it happened to. A bruiser in all ways. My schtick was more the _path_ than the destination." He grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder where they are. Hopefully as far from here as is physically possible."

"Why, afraid I'll dust them?"

His frown deepened. "No. Wherever Spike and Dru goes, death follows. They're a little more human than most vampires. That's not a _good _thing. It means they _play you_ easier. For example, Spike is a master at headgames, he can drop your guard with a few well-chosen words at the right time, and Drusilla, well, getting to her with Spike around is difficult enough, but on her own she's just as scary. She'll know you're coming for her before _you_ do, and she's just as good at hypnosis as the Master was. Only flaw she has is the crazy thing, and the fact that precognition doesn't really work well in straight-up fights. Too many variables."

She pursed her lips. "Why are you telling me all this?"

He looked to the side. "Because as much as I dislike you, Xander doesn't. And I can't keep him safe during the day."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "...you think they're coming here, don't you?"

"Yeah. They _hate_ Pijavica, and she's out there, somewhere, in this town and away from her power base. Add to that that a Slayer is here, and you might as well be chum in the water. They'll be here. Sooner or later, they'll be here."

She wasn't sure she liked being compared to bloody fish bits. "Whatever."

"He's out of the grave."

Buffy blinked. "Huh?"

There was a growl, and something tackled her from behind. Something reeking of dirt and stinky breath. Oh, right, the Korshak guy.

The fight itself was brief. Korshak _was _a newbie after all, so a couple of punches to the face and a stake to his unbeating heart later, poof. Of course, she wouldn't have _needed_ to fight him if she hadn't been so distracted by Leechy McBrooderson over there.

"Did you _plan_ this?" She glared at Angel suspiciously.

He gave her a sardonic look. "Sure. I plotted this whole thing out with Korshak while he was dead. Then I jumped over the moon and gave pigs wings so they could fly."

"Nobody likes a snarker." Buffy brushed the dirt off her pants, turned to walk away...

...and fell headlong into an open grave. Ow.

After a few embarrassed moments, she got up, glaring at the clearly amused vampire looking down at her.

"Having trouble?" Angel's smug grin was annoying in the extreme.

"Shut up." Looking around, she frowned. Huh. Shovel marks.

"Looks like you missed one." Yeah, if the shovel was around here somewhere she might wipe that smug look off his face. Or flatten it.

"No...this isn't – this grave was _dug_ out. See the tracks there? Somebody stole the corpse." Buffy took a hold of the most solid spot on the grave and heaved herself out. "Whoever was buried here was still pretty dead when they left."

"...they?"

She patted the worst of the dirt off her jeans and indicated the deep footprints, two pairs of them. A part of her was feeling downright smug at having spotted something the vampire had missed. "Oh yeah. Looks like we got us a grave robber."

.

Sometimes, Buffy really wanted to break the friend code. Like when, while picking on Giles for his awkward attempts at asking a chair out, she mentioned that people didn't take being called 'idiot' as a romantic thing, and Xander thoughtlessly replied something about how repetition could make any word or phrase seem romantic, like 'ew' or 'as if'.

Either break the friend code or Xander's dad's jaw. The guy had broken his son's self esteem thoroughly, and it reflected everywhere, his love life, his grades, the works. Much as she hated to admit it, the only positive influence on his life other than her, Giles and Willow was the damn _vampire_.

If only he wouldn't be so _smug_ when she mentioned, reluctantly, that Angel _had_ in fact helped her in the cemetery. _Yes_, Korshak had surprised her. But that was just because Fangs the Souled Blunder had distracted her in the first place.

She still suspected him of planning that. She wasn't sure how, just that the odds were favorable.

Okay. Yeah, Angel was, technically, a good guy. But just because he had a soul didn't mean he couldn't be a jerk, or even a bad guy. _Hitler_ had a soul, as far as she knew. Souls did not automatically make for goodness, or even the ability to tell good from evil.

...oh, right. "Oh, and we found out someone had dug up a grave."

Giles did a double-take, while Xander looked amused. "Was it a hunchback and a guy in a lab coat?"

"No clue."

"Grave robbing? That's, er, that's, new." Giles half rose out of his chair, presumably to go find a book or two.

"If by new you mean gross." She gave him an amused look. "Please tell me you didn't just get all giddy because someone is digging up the dead."

At least he had the decency to look embarrassed by the suggestion. "I...no. Of course not."

Right.

.

It wasn't easy, even now. She knew Xander was still torn up from Willow turning him down, and she knew he still had a major yen for the girl, even though Wills seemed to be handling it much better than _he_ did. Last time they Bronzed, she'd seen Willow flirting with Owen Thurman, of all people, which was kind of hilarious.

At least she had some taste.

But what was _really_ annoying was watching Cordelia make a dramatic entrance, yammer on about how in agony she was about one of the jocks being dead a few months back, and then immediately set her evil harpy eyes on _Xander_.

Oh, she knew the Cordettes had their eyes on him. Half the girls at school did. She could still remember searching Marcie Ross' hideout and finding a photo of Xander at a little shrine, right alongside the pictures of several _other_ of the school's most eligible boys. Creepy.

And it was _obvious_, the way Cordy acted around him. Little insults, little jibes, stuff to get him riled and talk back, and then there'd be sparks a-flying.

Last time she saw sparks like that was when she met Oliver. Or 'Pike' as he'd gone by, then. She preferred Oliver. Sure, it was a goofy name, but she'd rather use that than have him name himself after a fish. So what if it was his surname?

But Cordelia pissed her off. So it was maybe understandable that she was a _tad_ grouchy when Giles finally found something about zombies, plural, using Willow's web-search and Xander's poorly timed comments as his theoretical basis. Hey, Xand had a weird tendency to get the badness right on the first go. Like clockwork, mention something bad around him and...

...wait, a hunchback and a guy in a lab coat? "Uh, Giles, can you raise the dead with other methods? Like, like Frankenstein did?"

Giles blinked. "Er...yes. Shelley _did_ base her novel off a true account, an incident in Basel, Switzerland, though the names were altered, and it was an alchemical process, not electricity..."

Okay, this was a good hunch, it seemed. "Wills, you know what Meredith was most famous for?"

Cordelia broke in, leaning suspiciously close to the chair Xander was seated in. "Oh, that's easy, she had legs to _die_ for."

Ah-ha! Buffy smirked humorlessly. "Literally."

.

Knowing someone wanted to build their own cheerleader wasn't enough. Unfortunately. Half the science nerds in school had the know-how to stitch someone together like a human Lego kit, and half of those were weirdos. As Giles put it, the Hellmouth tended to encourage or attract such behavior.

Investigating the lockers turned up a couple of likely suspects, but no motive. Well, Eric Gittleson was a creep, but that wasn't enough. Chris Epps, on the other hand...but he had better reason to bring his dead _brother_ back, what would he want with the cheerleaders?

And through it all, Cordelia kept showing up and hanging near Xander. Annoying.

.

"She's evil."

Willow blinked. They were seated on the hood of the car parked outside the burning remains of the Epps home, watching Cordelia cling to Xander while thanking him _over_ and _over_, leaning forward to show her cleavage. In the background Angel stood, frowning, watching the spectacle alongside them.

"Who, Cordelia?"

Buffy nodded. "Yup."

Willow looked at her, then at Cordelia. Doing the hair-toss. "I see what you mean."

"Has she always been evil?"

"Kinda. But, uh, she's been more evil to me. Harmony was more the one who chased Xander, back in junior high. Cordelia just wanted to say hurtful things. I never figured out why."

Buffy knew. She knew the workings of a Cordelia better than any of them. She _was _Cordelia, barely two years ago. "Politics. Distract the crew by giving them someone to let out their aggressions on, makes them less prone to rebelling."

Willow stared at her, looking a little shocked. "...politics? She made my high school years a living h...heck, over _politics_?"

"Yeah." Oh, and now she did the fake _laugh_. Was Xander buying it? Hard to tell. "Could just as easily have been someone else."

For a moment, they watched. Then Willow sighed. "I better go and rescue him."

Buffy gave her a confused look. "What?"

Willow smiled. "He's getting desperate. He's tilting his shoulder to the side and fiddling with the back of his neck, that usually means he's about to do or say something dumb without thinking."

"...you can _tell_?"

"Oh yeah. He's easy to read." She stood up, adjusted her pullover, then nodded at Buffy. "I can teach you, if you want?"

Without waiting for an answer, Willow walked over there with a resolute face. Buffy stared at her, then watched Willow tug at Xander's sleeve, say something, watched Cordelia frown and open her mouth to say something mean, and...

Huh. He _did_ look relieved, now. Maybe there _was_ something to it.

Man, she _hated _studying.

.

* * *

.

**Tuesday, September 30th, 1997.**

Willow found Buffy in the library, slumped over a table with her head in her arms, frowning and pouting. It wasn't hard to figure out why. "Hey Buffy."

"Death."

Willow suppressed a grin at the reaction. It wasn't funny. Okay, a _little_ funny. "So, Xander's gonna be at the Bronze, huh."

"Death, despair." Buffy didn't even look up.

"And oh, I heard the Cordettes were going Bronzing too. Funny how that coincides."

"Death to all Cordelias." After a little while, Buffy let out a drawn-out groan. "And I have to be _here_. Following Snyder's _orders_. And _studying_. Because vampire Christmas is coming, and all good little Slayers need to read up on this Vigo guy."

"St. Vigeous."

"Whatever." She looked up, her eyes pleading. "Could you help me convince Giles?"

"Sorry. He always gets passive-aggressive and sarcastic when I try." Willow sat down next to her. "How's the prep for the Parent-Teacher night going?"

"Lousy. Sheila-"

"...bailed, I can see that."

They both froze, then assumed identical brittle smiles as they turned to the principal. How _did_ he keep appearing like that?

Buffy shook her head. "No, no, she, uh, she's been really helpful. She's out getting ingredients for, uh, the dip. We realized not everyone can eat regular dip so she has to, uh, get avocado dip too."

Snyder didn't buy it. "She _better _show. If she doesn't, you're _both_ facing possible expulsion."

As he vanished into whatever dank, dark tunnel he had emerged from – the school hallways most likely – Buffy gained a crafty look. "I need to find Sheila. I-I-I mean, Giles can't tell me _not_ to, it's for _school_, and, and Snyder might _expel_ me if I don't. And what's the most likely spot to find her?"

Willow blinked, then dawning comprehension lit up her face. "The Bronze!"

"Exactly!"

.

Studying at the Bronze sounded like great, hilarious fun, but it really, really wasn't. French verb conjugating was like eating soup with a fork, and having to watch Xander dancing with everyone and sundry was annoying.

Granted, if she could get a backbone and tell him how she _felt_, maybe her troubles might be over with. But...

...what if he didn't feel the same way? He'd been deeply into Willow, and feelings like that never went away, she knew that. Maybe, maybe he'd turn her _down_. Or worse, accept and then one day Willow would change her mind and he'd be gone. Not that she thought Willow would _do_ that, she was too nice, but still. There _was_ a chance.

"Go on. Get your dance on." Willow grinned at her. "Before he gets too tired and cranky."

Buffy glanced at her quizzically, then steeled herself. Right. If she could kick the Master's butt, she could ask a boy to dance. And besides, she'd already spotted Sheila. Funnily enough, she actually was at the Bronze.

No great mystery, the Bronze was pretty much _it_ for teens in this town.

But as she headed towards Xander to rescue him from Aphrodesia and her giant feet, she couldn't help but notice the guy standing at the back of the room, looking about as inconspicuous as Billy the Kid at the annual Texas Ranger ballroom dance.

Tallish, peroxide hair, black leather...kinda like Angel or Bronzin' It Xander, only _trying_ too hard.

Well, whoever he was, he vanished not long after. Probably nothing. And hey, she got a dance! Even if she chickened out from what she _really _wanted to ask.

.

So the evening was going _great_...right up until the point where Sheila almost got eaten by a random vamp. So great, in fact, that she had been almost sure that Xander was having a good time dancing.

Oh well, at least the vamp was dust.

The slow, sarcastic clap was not coming from the corner where Xand and Wills were hiding, though. Turning, she found the same peroxide weirdo from before, all smirks and swagger. The same guy who'd told her of the vamp going for Sheila. And now, apparently, mocking her skills.

Okay, _nobody_ dissed on her Slaying. _Nobody_.

"Who the hell are _you?_"

The smirk turned smirkier, if that was possible. Or a word. "You'll find out on Saturday."

British accent. Kind like Giles, only more Michael Caine than Richard Burton. "What happens Saturday?"

"I kill you." The guy melted back into the shadows.

Well _that_ was something that was annoying. And apparently Angel wasn't the _only_ one who knew that trick...

...oh. Aw, _great_. Another one?

.

According to the books, she already knew him. His name was-

"William Pratt. Alias William the Bloody, alias Spike." Angel dropped down from where he'd been perched on the back of a chair, glancing towards Xander with obvious concern. Buffy suppressed a smirk.

"Not satisfied with one name, huh?"

Angel frowned at her. "He's probably one of the most dangerous vampires alive. He's smarter than he pretends, he loves fighting, and he only shows affection for one thing, Drusilla."

"You mentioned her, I think. Who is she?"

Angel sat down, still frowning. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was looking ashamed. Deeply so. "Before I...way back when I was Angelus, I traveled with Darla. But eventually, we figured that two vampires alone was unsafe. We needed a third. And Angelus had the perfect target. A girl who had actual psychic abilities. She thought she was possessed or hearing things, and was slowly going crazy. So Angelus...helped her out."

"Helped her out how?" Xander stared at him, an unusual expression on his face. Was it pity? Disgust? Hard to tell. Willow reached out and squeezed his arm, and he reached back and patted her shoulder absentmindedly, not even looking.

Those two were so much like siblings it was almost freaky.

Angel glanced up at him, then away. "I – he pushed her the last bit of the way over the edge. Killed her friends and family in the most brutal, insanely cruel ways possible, then finally slaughtered them all in front of her and locked her in the house over night. Alone in a house full of the corpses of her family. When he finally went inside the next night, she was already completely insane."

Buffy felt nauseous. Judging by the green looks on everyone else's faces, she wasn't alone. "Oh God."

"Angelus turned her, and somehow she kept some of her psychic talents, as well as getting as an unusually strong penchant for wholesale slaughter. Only, she's crazy, so a lot of what she sees doesn't make any sense when she talks about it. _She_ knows what it means, but it takes time to learn to decipher her ramblings." Angel took an unnecessary breath. "Spike has spent over a century by her side. He knows _exactly_ how she thinks and talks. And he's obsessed with keeping her _happy_."

They didn't talk much after that, other than reading up on .

.

Keeping her mom away from the teachers and Snyder while keeping an eye on Xander who was whittling stakes and doing research with Willow and Cordelia – who _volunteered_, the witch – was a fulltime job. It didn't help that Sheila had almost bailed, then showed up mere moments before disaster, and had then been Little Miss Perfect all evening.

It was kind of uncanny. Like, 'who are you, and what did you do with the real Sheila?'-uncanny.

She knew the relative peace wouldn't last, of course. In _this_ town? Not a chance. And of course, everything had to come crashing down just as she'd left the library after making sure Cordelia hadn't gone farther than sitting too close to Xander and _smiling_ – and really, Cordelia _had_ to be evil – because as soon as she left the library she spotted her mom leaving the administrative offices down the hall.

She looked _pissed_.

Snyder followed, looking smug. Evil little toad. Forget Cordelia, this guy was true malice incarnate.

Hee. Giles would blow a gasket if he knew she could use words like 'malice' and 'incarnate' correctly. She'd have to use that one soon. It'd serve him right for always underestimating her.

"In the car. _Now_."

Oh yeah. Mom was angry.

And the doors slammed open, and the peroxide blonde and about a dozen vampires sauntered in all smug and evil.

Sometimes Buffy hated her life.

.

When Angel arrived in Sunnydale, he already knew who Xander was and where to find him, courtesy of a weaselly balance demon calling itself Whistler. Since then he'd met four or five other demons working for the same nebulously defined 'Powers', and apart from the first one, they all had two things in common.

One, they were _pricks_.

Oh, Whistler was okay, kind of. Horrible clothing taste, a penchant for the needlessly mysterious, and of course the hats. But he was halfway decent compared to the others.

The one that showed up two days after Angel first let young Xander know he existed was a Ricnar demon, with the pale skin and little quills for hair. The females of the species were usually gorgeous. The males...not so much. Jigsaw was named so probably because his face looked like someone had used it to make a jigsaw puzzle...and failed.

Jigsaw had not been as _pleasant_ as Whistler. His first sentence had been _'What the hell were you thinking?'_, and it had only gotten worse from there. Basically, he'd been sent to tell Angel that contacting his son was a horrible idea, to chew him out for doing it, and so on and so forth and blah blah blah.

Two days later, Angel had taken out a Gnarl demon sneaking up on the Harris home. After he had killed it, Jigsaw had appeared again and grumblingly admitted that, okay, Angel had a point in that Sunnydale was a very dangerous environment for the boy.

It had gone much like that for the following ten years or so, messengers for the Powers who came to whine and bitch about how Angel was wasting his time there. Jigsaw was probably the only one who had apologized.

Of course, this meant that when Angel met his latest messenger – an armor-faced Crestfeather halfbreed named Galt – on the lawn in front of the school where Xander was currently in danger, he didn't even pause for pleasantries.

"Angelus! You _can't!_ If you go in there against him, you jeopardize the entire-" The punch knocked Galt out cold, dropping him like a clubbed ox.

Angel shook the ache out of his hand gingerly, and continued, muttering. "I hate it when they call me that name..."

That was the _second_ thing.

.

"Oh, _Slayerrr_...come out and _play_-ay..." Spike grinned. "I found yer little mate. Can't see as to what's so special _about_ this bloke, but no accounting for taste, I s'pose."

"Xander!" _Damn it_. Xander was supposed to be _hiding_, how did he-

The vampire's grin widened. "Now now, don't be too hard on the lad, I sent three of my best to grab him. Well, I _say_ best, but they're really kind of pants. Worked well enough, though."

He was holding Xander by the neck, ready to snap it at any sign of danger. With the distance he was at, there was no way she'd get there before he could...

A painful knot had formed in her gut. He went after Xander. _Again_, someone went after _Xander_. Why?

Xander himself had claimed it was because the Master wanted to get to Angel through him, but the Master was gone, _forever_. Angel never said anything on the subject, but then he mostly talked to Xander about anything in the first place. In fact, him sharing the backstory on the vampire Bonnie and Clyde with everyone like he had, had been kind of unusual.

Wait...wasn't that blonde ho-skank all on about turning Xander? _She_ was still out there, wasn't she?

"From what I heard, you usually aren't the errand boy." She smirked at the narrowing of Spike's eyes. Ah-ha! She got his number, all right. "What's the matter, being a bloodsucking fiend doesn't pay the bills anymore?"

He tilted his head a little. "Let's just say I owe Peggy a solid, eh? I do this for her, we wipe the slates clean. And I always _did_ love killing a Slayer, so it's win-win for me."

Buffy frowned. What was he looking at? Something..._behind _her!

She whirled, only to face a surprisingly weak punch from Angel that nevertheless sent her off-balance and into the nearby lockers. As she kippuped back up, he had already swaggered past her and joined Spike. "You sure love to hear yourself talk, Billy. Oh, sorry, it's _Spike_ now, isn't it?"

"Well, had to _stall _her, didn't I? You were taking your sweet bloody _time_."

Angel chuckled. "Spike, Spike, Spike. Always the same. _Excuses_. 'Oh, I can't kill that guy, they nailed me to a barn wall! I can't help you there, mate, Drusilla's having her fangs sharpened!' Just face it, you're a coward and always will be."

Spike's face clouded over, then vamped out. "Watch your bloody _tongue_, mate. You're one to talk, haven't even _heard_ from you for the last century. Other than that one time, what was it, the submarine?"

"Oh yeah. How did that one go, by the by?"

Spike shrugged. "Well enough."

The movement was so fast she could barely follow it even with her enhanced sight. Angel's arm whipped out, striking Spike's shoulder, causing him to drop Xander. Before the white-blonde ringleader could react, Angel had Xander in his arms, dragging him away swiftly. "Take him out, I got Xander!"

What?

What?

Oh!

Spike looked up, shaking out his arm and snarling. "Traitor!"

Then he turned towards Buffy, face contorted even further than normally. She blinked. _Oh crap_.

_Whack!_ "Get the hell away from my daughter!"

Seriously, _what?_

Mom stood there, fire ax in hand, and Spike was staggering away from her with a bleeding scalp wound. Noticing he was outnumbered, seeing as Buffy had killed his flunkies...

...he turned and ran.

What a wuss.

.

* * *

.

Standing outside his condo apartment, Angel stared at the night sky and drew a shuddering, useless breath.

They had taken turns babying the boy. Xander grumbled and groused all the way through it, even as Buffy was putting antiseptic on his bruises and cuts in a completely pointless fashion, and even moreso when Angel turned him this way and that to check for anything they'd missed. This _was_ Spike, after all. King of sneaky, underhanded ploys. Angelus had never admitted it, but when it came to stuff like that, Spike was second only to Darla.

Still crap at torture, though. Always cheated with Dru.

Angel snorted. God, he _really_ needed therapy or something if he still felt twisted pride about knowing the best way to inflict long-term pain to people without outright killing them.

Not like he could see a regular shrink, of course. The ones who kept night hours...

...wait, didn't they have all-night call centers? Something to think about. Of course, he couldn't get too content, that way lead to _happiness_. So maybe he should just forget it.

"You broke his nose, y'know."

Angel didn't turn. "He deserved it."

Whistler came up beside him, dressed in a hideous floral red and green and yellow and purple shirt. Like a deranged butterfly flock had decided to nest on his torso. "True. Galt is kind of a jerk. Still, he had a point. You can't die yet."

Angel snorted. "What, too many prophecies I have yet to fulfill?"

"Not exactly. More like too many prophecies you need to _break_."

Angel turned his head to look at him. _That_ was a first. Usually they were way more cryptic. "It was _Spike_. Not that big a deal."

"Yeah, about that..." Whistler's face darkened a little. "We've had a break, y'know. Almost seventeen years, and _nothing_. Truce, of a sorts. Even the Wolf, Ram and Hart have been laying low. But they're starting to move, now."

"Which ones?"

"_All _of them."

Angel felt a shiver of cold down his spine. Well, not _cold_, he couldn't actually _feel_ temperatures, but still. "Oh."

"We're not sure what they're up to, but they're up to it. And Spike might not be a big deal to you, but _they're_ awfully interested in him. And your mutual aunt."

_Pijavica_.

"Every family has a crazy aunt or uncle."

"Yeah. Yours just happens to be bugnuts insane even for a _vampire_." Whistler rolled his shoulders. "Anyway, keep an eye out. Things are moving, and we can't tell where it's going yet."

He walked off, leaving Angel to ponder all this.

Just as he was about to go inside and see to his boy, Whistler's voice came out of the darkness for one last remark.

"Oh, one more thing...keep your kid away from Cordelia Chase. Trust me on that one."

.

In a warehouse by the harbor, Drusilla tended to her beloved's cuts and bruises. Outside, the sun was shining.

"I told you not to underestimate her."

Spike glared at the little pipsqueak. "Y'should've mentioned _Angelus_ was on their side."

The Anointed One smirked. "I thought you were ready for anything?"

"Listen you, Angelus is the bloody heavyweight _champion_. I might be a contender, but a bloke needs some _prepwork_, got me?" Spike's glare intensified. In fact, just putting the little rat in a cage and hoisting him into the sunlight was sounding increasingly like a good idea.

"Now, now...Father's children should not fuss and _fight_."

Bugger. _Her_ again. "'Ullo, Peggy."

She turned perfect, ice-blue eyes on him. "_Pijavica_."

He grinned insolently. "Last we met your name was still _Margaret_. And what's with the _accent_? You're not Russian, you're from the bleedin' Isle of Man! Half a century in Prague and you turn into Empress Anastasia?"

Her stare turned even frostier. "The _name _was _given _to me."

"By who, the Sugar Plum Fairy?" Oh, _this_ was good. Her hands were forming into claws. Sooner or later she'd call on her dumb-as-posts bodyguards, and he'd have a _real_ fight. A _fun _one. _None_ of her beefslabs could hold a candle to someone like himself.

"Daddy's got a secret..."

They all stopped, then turned to Drusilla. Even the Anointed One looked curious. "Who?"

She gave them a dreamy look, then giggled, swaying away from the group to some music only she could hear. "Daddy and granny did a naughty, and now he watches his little baby eagle..." Another giggle. "Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..." Suddenly, she stopped, looking confused. "Spike, I'm cold. Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

He hugged her close and cursed inwardly even as he cooed nonsense reassurances to her. One of _those _visions. Usually she remembered what she saw, but sometimes it came on too strong.

Oh, well. If Angelus had a secret, they'd find out sooner or later. After all, time _was_ on their side...


	12. Ecdysis IV

**A/N: **The reason this chapter is _seriously _delayed is because I recently ended up in the hospital for pretty major surgery and have been recovering ever since. Yay for sudden unexpected kidney and bowel health concerns. I'll be fine, hopefully, just a bit of a medical puzzle for them. Where's Greg House when you need him, huh? Even so, twenty-six stitches. Metal.

...literally, they stitch you up with metal clamps these days, unless you got nickel allergies...

Anyway, updates will be sporadic for a long time because my convalescence delayed all my actual work, so I'll be focusing on that first.

And yes, the scar is long and badass-looking. I'm gonna claim I got it in a fight with a grizzly bear when people ask.

.

* * *

.

**Friday, October 10th, 1997.**

As they sat there at the table at the Bronze, once the fight was over and Giles had been sent on his way with the crumbling remains of the creature that had called itself Ampata, Buffy couldn't help but vent a little.

"Is there a sign on my back that says 'Kick Me'? Did I somehow insult Cupid in a past life? I need _one _measly moment. Just one. A perfect moment in which to tell a guy I feel something for him, but _nooooo_."

Willow said nothing. Buffy turned to her, and found...an empty seat. Because Willow was not there. Nor was she over by the bar where recently depressed Xander was getting their drinks and snacks.

This could be bad. Willow rarely wandered off on her own, and-

...no, wait, _there_ she was. Talking to some guy with green hair. Huh. And now she was blushing, and the guy was smiling. Looked kind of mellow, whoever he was. And short.

Okay, life was officially unfair. Because _Willow_ was apparently finding a boy to talk to, and having greater success than Buffy.

Stupid Willow.

Stupid green-haired guy.

Stupid Ampata and her feminine wiles.

Stupid Xander for falling for said wiles.

"Here's your Coke. Diet, like you asked. Not that you need it..." Xander seated himself, grabbing the small basket of chocolate-covered pretzels for himself and munching away. For once he wasn't drinking soda, instead he had a cup of...uh, chocolate? Really dark chocolate. Wait, why did it smell faintly like _chili_?

"I _do _need it. No point in getting all fat and bloated." She smiled at him. Why was he so blind?

Xander raised both eyebrows in amusement. "Fat? Bloated? You? Single-word sentences? Me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Quit hogging the snacks."

"I am a natural snack-hogger. Just ask Willow." He gave her an unrepentant grin, and clutched the basket closer to his body. "I declare these pretzels the property of Xandonia."

She narrowed her eyes. "_Gimme_."

"Yes sir, General Slayer, sir!" But he was still grinning. And he did give up the goodies.

Eventually.

.

* * *

.

**Monday, October 13th.**

Braiding hair. A complicated, difficult task that only those with great skill or tons of experience even dare to attempt.

"...is she dying?"

Buffy glanced over at him and smirked. "I _think _she's singing."

Their _shoulders_ were _touching_. It was like warmth radiated from the spot, making her feel slightly giddy. And nervous. She looked down, folded over the lock of red hair.

Xander nodded, his eyes transfixed on the television screen. "To a _telephone_. In Hindi. Now _that's_ entertainment." She scooted a teensy smidge closer. Xander scooted slightly to the side, making room. Damn it. No more shoulder. "_Why _is she _singing_?"

Willow, who had actually somehow managed to follow the plot, explained. "She's sad because her lover gave her twelve gold coins, but then the wizard cut open a bag of salt, and now the dancing minions have nowhere to put their Maypole...fish thingy."

"Uh-huh." Xander looked back at the screen. "Why is she _singing_?"

Buffy frowned. "Her _lover_? I thought that was her chiropractor?"

"Because of that thing he did with her feet? No, that was – _personal_." Willow yanked slightly at the braiding as she looked back at Buffy.

"Hn. And we thought just because we didn't have any money or any place to go this'd be a lackluster evening."

Buffy glanced at Xander again. Still caught up in the show. She scooted closer again, a little more subtly this time. Ah, shoulder touch. Hmmm. Feet. Maybe she could talk him into a footrub sometime. After patrol. All platonic-like.

She felt her face heat up at the thought.

"I know! We could go to the Bronze and sneak in our own teabags and ask for some hot water." Willow nodded sagely. Wait a minute, had she actually _done_ that? She seemed oddly sure it would work...

Xander gave his friend a dryly amused look. "Hop off the outlaw train, Will, before you land us all in _jail_."

Buffy grinned. "I, for one, am giddy and up. There's a kind of hush all over Sunnydale." Another glance at Xander caused her to face him, mere inches away, and she turned away in what she hoped was a casual speed. _Too_ close. _Too_ darn close. Butterflies doing conga lines in her belly. "No demons or vampires to slay, I'm here with you guys..."

She faltered as another musical number commenced. "...so how does the water buffalo fit in again?"

.

Cleaning up after their little Bollywood movie extravaganza was fairly easy, Xander and Buffy took the dishes and trash out to the kitchen while Willow compulsively vacuumed her sheets. It was too late to walk home, so she'd be sleeping over, or at least that was the excuse she'd told mom. In reality, Buffy would patrol and _then _sleep over. Xander would just sneak across the yard, squeeze through the thick hedge and be home.

Handy.

As for Willow's parents, they were apparently in Anaheim on a conference.

They were _always_ at conferences, now that she thought about it. Didn't they ever just sit around and veg? Hung out with Willow?

Most likely not. Considering how close they lived to the Harris home, a child psychiatrist and a neurosurgeon would _probably _have noticed the abuse going on next door if they were ever _home_.

Huh. Was she the only one with a mom that acted like a – a _mom_?

"Wills is having serious Bronze-shakes, huh?"

She grinned. "More like she wants to see if that Oz guy is there."

"Who?"

Buffy waved a hand in his direction while rummaging through the freezer for the ice cream. "Oh, just this guy she's been hanging with the last few times..."

There was a clatter behind her, and she turned, puzzled. Xander stood there, white as a ghost. The spoons were on the floor.

"W-Willow has a boyfriend?"

Crap on a crap-stick.

She watched with a growing, gnawing tummy-ache as Xander made a few lame excuses, then left.

.

* * *

.

"No, I think you _don't_ know what it's like to be sixteen. And a _girl_. And the Slayer." And in love with the biggest moving target since they sank the Yamato, but she didn't say _that_ out loud.

Giles blinked, and his expression softened, slightly. "No, I, I suppose you're right. Fair point." He sat down next to her. "But, but that's no excuse. Not to mention that you're still associating with Xander, and may I remind you that we _still_ don't have reliable inteligence on his ally Angel? If he truly _is_ Angelus, we may be, be harboring a _viper_ in our midst."

Oh, _fabulous_, it was the old 'Xander may be an evil spy who plots evil. Also, evil'-routine. As if he hadn't mentioned that before. A few hundred times.

So she gave him a sardonic look. "He saved my life at _least _twice. And almost gave his life to that mummy thing just to give me a better shot at it. And-"

Giles was frowning, but not as much as before. "Yes, yes, he, he has been useful, I admit it. Just...be careful."

.

She stopped, halfway through the hallway. Stared. Xander was talking to Cordelia. Who was smirking and showing her neck. Oh, God. Oh, and now Cordelia was leaning in a little, and then turned with a teasing smile over her shoulder, before marching off with her Cordettes.

No. No, no, _no_. That flabby hag was _not _gonna move in on – wait, why was she angry with Cordelia, _he _was the big dummo who was standing there flirting!

And so, ten minutes later she found herself in a slight state of confusion, talking to Willow in the cafeteria.

"Cordelia?" Willow looked askance at Buffy. "You sure?"

The Slayer in question shrugged, her expression morose. "Yeah, well...maybe I should set my sights elsewhere. She can help. I think."

Willow frowned. "But...it's _Cordelia_. The _enemy_." She paused, glanced over at Xander by the salad bar. Still moping, the big moron. "_Your _enemy. Remember?"

Letting out a frustrated noise, Buffy glared in the same direction. "Because he's _clueless_. And I never get the right moment to...because he's an _idiot_."

Now Willow was looking seriously confused. "But you knew that going in, didn't you?"

"Whatever. She knows college boys. They know how to _treat_ a lady. Or so I hear." Not that she was as enthusiastic as Cordy was. College boys tended to be grabby and grope-y according to her mother, and besides, she wasn't really interested. But, um, maybe if she had a day or so off and...

...okay, this was starting to seriously bug her. Why was every single thought, dream, conversation and action she had or made about _Xander_ in some way these days? Wasn't she the _Slayer?_ Strong woman? Bend steel in bare hands?

Stupid, _stupid_ hormones.

.

"A party?" She had frowned. Very deeply.

"A _fraternity_ party. Note the qualifier." It was almost impossible to hate Cordelia. Yes, she was a grade-A bitcah, as Xander would have put it, but _man_, did she ever have charm.

A shame she was always using that charisma for evil.

"You're sure."

"_Sure_ I'm sure. I wouldn't be sure if I wasn't _sure_, would I?" Even Cordelia had seemed to realize how convoluted her sentence had gotten, since she paused to frown while mouthing the words briefly before shaking her head and continuing. "Look, it's not a date. Well, it is for _me_, but you can just mingle, be my wingman. Wingwoman? Whatever."

Buffy had sighed. "I dunno..."

"I'll talk to you in the hallways for a month after?"

"_Oh joy." _She had hoped that her sardonic look was good enough.

"Great!" ...apparently not.

Which meant that she was now bound to go to a stupid fraternity party with Cordelia, her worst enemy. All because of a stupid, stupid boy. And her stupid, stupid hormones.

Damn it.

.

* * *

.

Oh, ow. Her head hurt like a sonuva – Wait, where the heck was she? A basement?

Great. A party, Cordelia? Really? Looked more like Lair of the White Worm, only without Hugh Grant. Mmmm, Hugh Grant...no, focus. Wait, was Cordelia here? And...oh, heck. Tied up with chains.

"Buffy? Where are we?"

She looked up. Over by the other side was Richard and that rat bastard Tom, apparently carving something into Tom's back. Good. She hoped it hurt. "In the basement, far as I can tell."

Cordelia looked around, clearly worried. "What's happening? What did they do to us?"

"They drugged us." Buffy frowned. Something in the punch, probably. A punch that packs a punch. Funny. Also, maybe still a bit woozy from the drugs.

"Why, what are they gonna do to us?"

"I don't know."

"I wanna go home!" This was who Xander was flirting with on a daily basis? Man, he had _no_ taste. If he did, he would have...damn it, no thinking about _him _at a time like this.

Another voice broke in, from the side. "No one's going home. Ever. Look, one of them's different than the others. Nicer."

Buffy followed the girl's eyes to the man with a brand new bloody symbol in his back, being helped up and given a funky fresh robe. "Tom."

The girl nodded. "He's the one to watch out for."

Buffy reached up, yanked at the chains a bit. Okay, fastened to the wall. With mortar. She could work with that. The chains were meant to secure ordinary young girls, not Slayers. Thank God these yahoos had no clue what she was.

Tom noticed, glancing over at her. "She's last."

"Last?" Cordelia paled. "Last for what? Who's first? Answer me! Who's first!?"

The duo of frat cultists ignored her, picking up a bag and dropping three small stones into Tom's hand from it. Buffy nodded, almost to herself. "Three stones. Three of us."

She could hear Cordelia whimper. "Buffy..."

"Stay calm. I'll get us outta this." She watched them continue their wacky ritual. Any moment now someone was probably gonna start chanting while whacking themselves on the head with a piece of wood.

Man, they had to quit letting Xander pick the movies for comedy nights.

She heard Cordelia mutter to herself. "Why'd I ever let you talk me into coming here?"

Buffy turned to stare in disbelief.

.

"Okay, Angel told me she told him she found the bracelet in the cemetery by the south wall. What's behind the wall?" Xander turned to Giles and Willow. "What?"

Willow blushed. "Nothing."

"South wall, Willow."

"South...oh! Sorry. That's near the college and the, uh, the fraternity house."

Giles frowned. "A fraternity?"

She nodded, looking even more nervous.

Xander screwed his face up, trying to think. "So, um...fraternity kidnappers? Don't people say the Skull & Bones practice human sacrifice?"

"That's a bit of a myth. They're quite insular and unethical, but..." Giles cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Yes, I, I see your point."

With confirmation, there was just one thing to do. "Okay. I'll call Angel, tell him to meet us at this place. Willow, you have the address?"

"Buffy!"

Giles gave her a kind look. "W-w-we don't know that it's concrete, er, let's not dusturb her until-"

"Is there!" She interrupted. "With Cordelia. They went to a party at the Zeta Kappa house."

"She lied to me?" Giles looked hurt.

Xander blinked. "Why am _I _the last to know? I could have helped cover..." He noticed Giles' disapproving face. "Uh, I mean, _bad _Buffy."

Willow looked cowed at first, then suddenly drew up into herself. "W-well, it's all your _fault!_ Why do you _think_ she went to a party without letting _you _know? Because you're a total _jerk_ who can't see what's right in front of you! She's been trying to get you to open your darn eyes for _months_ now, and you're still, still mooning over _me_ and, and flirting with _Cordelia_ which is _so_ in bad taste, I mean _yuck_! And _you!"_ She turned to Giles. "You never let her do _anything_ except work or patrol! I mean, sure she's the Chosen One but she's a _person_, not a fighting machine, she's like, sixteen foing on f_orty!_ And would it _kill_ you to ask her out once!? Just _once!"_

That last was aimed at Xander again, who felt like the earth had just opened up underneath him. Both he and Giles just stood there, speechless.

Willow let out a little unhappy noise. "Okay, I _don't_ feel better now and we gotta help Buffy."

She rushed out. Giles paused only to nod at Xander. "Er, call Angel, I suppose, and meet us there."

Xander stood there for a whole minute, just staring into thin air, opening and closing his mouth much like a guppy.

Finally, he found his voice. Barely.

"A-a-a-ask her out?"

.

Angel had a car. This was good. Xander didn't, which meant Angel had to pick him up on the way, and of course nagged him about being outside alone at night, to which Xander replied that usually the area wasn't hunting grounds, to which Angel told him that was no excuse, and Xander sulked in the passenger seat all the way to the frat house.

Ironically, the fact that he was glaring in the opposite direction from Angel meant he noticed the lone robe-wearing frat member skulking around Cordelia's custom-plated car, and could point the guy out. One punch later, _Xander_ wore the robe.

"I look ridiculous."

"You'll do fine." Angel had a suspiciously neutral face, and Giles looked away. Probably to hide a smile.

He sighed, and walked up to the doorbell, ringing it several times. And again. And knocked the knocker a few times, just to make sure.

Eventually the door opened slightly, and some guy looking like a complete tool peered out. "Yeah?"

Xander ducked his head slightly. "Was dumping the trash and locked myself out. Could you let me in before the, uh-"

The guy opened the door, smirking, only to get a firm punch to the face, dropping him. Xander shook his hand, wincing. "I _knew_ I should have taped up my hands in the car."

Another frat guy rushed up, only to face down Angel and Giles rushing past Xander. Willow followed behind Xander as they went in, ready for a fight.

.

The fight was surprisingly easy, at least in Xander's opinion. Granted, Angel plowed through about half of them on his own, and Giles turned out to be a deft hand with a stick, using a walking cane much like a fencer's sword – only heavier and less lethal.

Willow kept to the rear, and snuck past the melee to peer down the basement. She quickly ducked back, looking pale, just as Angel finished smacking down the last frat brother. "Some guy's attacking Buffy with a sword! Also, there's a really big snake!"

Xander nodded at Angel. "Go, we'll be right there."

Angel nodded back and rushed down, followed closely by the gang as soon as they made the last fratboy cultists stay down. Giles even got a particularly vicious kick in the ribs in on the big guy he'd been tussling with earlier. It would have been more impressive if the guy wasn't down and out already.

Xander almost collided with Angel as he rushed down the stairs to a gruesome sight.

"Stupid!" _Punch_. "Snake!" _Punch_. "Bastard!"

He couldn't help but smile a little. Buffy was whaling on the poor snake demon, now mostly in chunks. "I think he's dead, Buff."

She glanced at him only briefly, then angrily nodded her head at an unconscious guy a few yards away. "Not the demon – _him!"_

"Oh." He noticed Angel smirking underneath a raised hand, and glared at him. Then he remembered why they were here. "Uh, need a hand?"

"No thanks. Oh, yeah, you could help the girls get free. I think that guy has the keys." She nodded at one of the unconscious men on the floor.

Willow unlocked Cordelia while Xander unlocked the unknown third girl. The girl smiled at him wanly, and he only paused briefly before putting his jacket over her shoulders. If she was in or going into shock, keeping her warm was important.

Next thing he knew, a pair of arms were thrown around him and a pair of impressive, um, were pressed up against him. "You did it! You saved us! I've never been so happy to see anyone in my whole..." Cordelia let go, blinking. "_You _guys. I just – I _hate_ you guys! The weirdest things always happen when you're around!"

With a half-sob, she backed up and stomped up the stairs, followed by Angel shoving the Tom guy ahead of himself and Cordelia yelling and berating Tom all the way upstairs.

Oh-_kaaaay_...

Xander shook his head, then noticed Giles and Buffy talking quietly in the corner. She looked ashamed, and Giles looked upset, but mostly relieved. Giving them their space, he helped the unnamed girl up. "You okay?"

She nodded. "I-I will be. Callie."

"Xander. Buffy's awesome, isn't she?" He grinned at her.

"Scary more like. But, but she helped me. She, she...how did she _do _that?"

He shrugged at her confused expression. "She eats her vitamins. Also, I think there's a bear somewhere in her heritage. A _big _one."

Callie let out a little giggle, and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

.

* * *

.

The Bronze was _happening_. Over by the popular tables was Cordelia, making poor Jonathan bust his chops to keep her happy. Apparently she was giving up on college boys.

Xander shivered. Something about the way Cordy had looked at him in the basement was unsettling. It almost reminded him of -

_Hazel eyes looking up at him. Waterslick hair across her face. "Xander?"_

"Xander?" He gave a start, looking up at Willow. Next to her was a short guy with neon-pink hair. Wait, didn't Buffy say he had green hair? "This is Oz."

"Hey." The pink-haired boy nodded at Xander. There was an almost palpable aura of calm about him.

A rush of blind jealousy surged, but he tamped it down. "...hey."

Willow smiled, her cheeks flushed. "Me and Buffy are gonna go get our orders. Be right back."

It hurt, realizing that that was the cheeriest and happiest he'd seen her in months.

Oz sat himself down on a chair, looking around. "Loud music."

"_Sucky_ music." Okay, maybe he was sulking.

To his surprise, Oz nodded. But didn't elaborate.

Okay...let's put this guy to the test.

"Who shot first?"

"Han."

Okay...ramp up the difficulty a bit. "Mr Miracle's wife?"

"Big Barda."

"Name of Darth Vader's flagship?"

"Executor."

"Elminster's alias in our world?"

"Ed Greenwood."

"The villain of Highlander 2?"

"There was no Highlander 2."

Xander stared at Oz for the longest time. Then held out his hand, conceding defeat. "Hey."

Oz shook it. "Hey again."

Xander smiled at him, a little sadly maybe. "If you ever hurt her, I will beat your head in with a shovel and bury you in the desert."

Oz blinked. Then nodded. "That's fair."

Willow and Buffy arrived, putting down a plate with Xander's peach ice tea, Oz's..._whatever_ that thing was – it was green – and Willow's big mug of chamomile tea. Also, a large diet Coke and a bowl of strawberries with whipped cream. Where would you even _find_ strawberries at this time of year?

Buffy blushed. "What? Everyone's always saying I'm too skinny. I can afford an extra pound or two."

"I didn't say anything." He grinned at her, and she ducked her head.

He crowd-watched a while, ignoring the quiet mumbling between Willow and Oz. Buffy was uncharacteristically quiet, too. "I almost forgot, I read the paper earlier. All the fratguys got prison for life. Several lifetimes, actually. They found the bones of a lot of missing girls in a huge cavern under the frat house, some of them dating back fifty years."

Buffy and Willow gave him grossed-out looks. Buffy glared at him, then her strawberries, then back at him. Wow, what a glare on that girl, huh?

Not that he was repressing anything a certain tiny redhead friend of his might have spilled in the heat of anger earlier. Nuh-uh. Not him. Not at all. Nope, not him. "And a whole bunch of the corporations of old frat members are going belly up, too. Couple of suicides in the boardrooms. Starve a snake, lose a fortune, huh?"

Willow smiled a bit uneasily. "So, how's Angel? He, he kinda left once we had the bad guys, but he was so cool during the fight-"

Buffy grimaced. "Angel, Angel, _Angel_. I swear, you have _got_ to get more friends than that foreheaded freak..." Her face turned blank, staring at a point behind Xander. "...oh, hey Angel."

Angel put a hand on Xander's shoulder, reassuring him. "Xander."

"Angel." He patted the hand a little awkwardly. Good buddies.

Buffy pouted a little and spoke in a mock-deep voice. "Buffy."

Angel let out a little snort that might have been a laugh. "I just wanted to check on you guys. I'll see you for practice tomorrow."

"Sure." Xander patted the hand one last time, then turned back to his friends. Willow had a sly, amused look and Buffy was glaring after the vanishing vampire.

The awkward around the table was so thick you couldn't cut it with...wait, Buffy was looking shifty. And blushing. Then she picked up a strawberry, dipped it in the cream and slowly..._ate_...it. All the while staring right at him.

Xander swallowed. Um. Uh. Uh.

Oh my.

.

* * *

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**A/N 2:** Yes, Willow meets Oz much earlier in this timeline. That's what happens when a girl stops obsessing over a guy unhealthily and looks around for someone else earlier.

Also, I admit it, the 'Cordelia using her charisma for evil' bit is, in fact, a joke about how Charisma Carpenter tends to be most often typecast as grade-A bitcahs or villains ever since Buffy. I just thought it was funny. Sorry. And the reason I used so much of a seemingly filler episode like Reptile Boy is because both on the show and here it signified a major breakthrough (for good or bad) in Buffy's romantic relationship woes.

See you guys in the next chapter, in which Xander gets an invisible friend named The Great Gazoo, and Buffy grows a beard!


	13. Ecdysis V

**A/N:** So...health problems. Not going into details, but it started with major bowel surgery, at which point they discovered _another_ problem that's related to a possible future kidney failure, and from there...oy with the vey and the tests and the _flayvin_. So, yeah, updates will be a lot rarer for _all_ my fics for the foreseeable future. Sorry.

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* * *

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**Monday, October 27th, 1997.**

"What about this?" Buffy grinned at him, holding up the costume.

"...I can't afford a Captain America costume." He frowned. "Wait, why are _you_ picking _my_ costume?"

"Because you have horrible taste." She hung the costume back up, eyeing a small green Speedo contemplatively, ziplocked in a baggy with a pair of small white wings and a pair of Spock-ears. "Hmmm..."

"I am not wearing a swimsuit in October." She glared at him, but then shrugged and moved on. "I was thinking of going as a soldier. I can use my uncle's old uniform, and just get a gun or something from here."

"Uh-huh. What about this?" She held up a familiar hard plastic 'S'-shield, only it was just the red bits with the yellow hollowed out. "Put it on a black t-shirt and-"

Xander gave her a suspicious look. "Buffy, how come you know so much about comic book characters anyway?"

She froze, blushed, then looked over at a suit of armor. "What about that one?"

"Once again, I have no money. My budget is somewhere between three and five bucks. Maybe six if I cut down on the weekly Twinkie ration."

Buffy waved a hand dismissively. "Blah blah blah, I'll cover the expense, just pay me back in increments."

"I knew it! Capitalist pig-dog!" He dodged her half-hearted swat. "But seriously, I'll pay for my own costume. Pick something _really _cool for yourself instead. I recommend the stripper outfit."

He chuckled as he dodged another swat. His face was slowly turning lobster red anyway, so he needed a break.

This was a very bizarre situation. Willow had told him – and Buffy had – and he – okay, he...

Damn it. Like, how the heck was he gonna _handle_ this? Just the fact that an attractive girl was actually blatantly interested in him was strange enough, but the fact that it had taken him this far to actually get what everyone had been telling him for the past year was just baffling. And flirting made him blush, because he was actually flirting and, and...

...and Willow was so damn...darn _annoying._ With her knowing smirks and amused eyebrows and gah! And her boyfriend who, _dammit_, was kinda cool. Confident, secure in his geekiness, played in a rock band...

Ironic. He was everything Xander had ever wanted to be.

Oooh, a plastic M16. Neato. The uniform he had was the right period, too. Price? Two bucks. Awesome.

And unnoticed by him, Buffy and Willow cooed over an outfit in the back.

...wait, was Buffy a _nerd_ as a kid?

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* * *

.

When it was all over, there were a few confused moments as memories re-arranged themselves, personalities returned to normal, and even one where Willow blinked out of existence only to come running a few minutes later, face flushed, followed by her boyfriend.

There were also regrets. A lot of regrets.

She had been a Greek warrior named Berenike of a people called the Sauromatians. Which was more history than Buffy had ever wanted to endure in her life. Apparently, there never _were _such a people as the Amazons, but these guys had been close enough.

She didn't remember much that she could understand. The ancient world had very different morals and attitudes, and she was infinitely grateful that Willow had – with meandering incoherent ramblings that Berenike hadn't gotten a single _word_ of and a lot of body language and gestures – convinced her not to kill any of the enspelled kids. Apparently, back in the day when the 'dead' spoke you _listened_.

Even if they Willow-babbled.

And yeah, she'd been a hair's breadth from trying to take on Angel. And yes, she'd been hitting heavily on Xander, sensing a fellow soldier in his soldier self, even if they didn't understand a word the other said.

She never would have imagined that a woman with no super strength would try to take on a vampire, though. Berenike had taken one look at Spike and just gone all out, to the point where the British vamp had been forced to run for his unlife. Missing a few vital parts of his anatomy that had both soldier-Xander and Angel wincing in horrified but maybe somewhat misguided empathy.

Spay and neuter your vampires, kids!

She chuckled a little, then glanced over at the gang. Willow in her trashy outfit, the sheet over one arm. Oz dressed up as a rockabilly greaser with ducktail hair and all. Except the hair was blue today. Xander in soldier outfit, Angel dressed as...Angel.

And then there was her.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, really. Either the Amazon outfit or her _other _option, but in the end she'd gone with the Greek warrior outfit that barely fit her because it was less revealing. As confident as she was in herself, she knew she wasn't the curviest girl out there, and the _other_ outfit kind of required someone with Cordelia's physique, not hers. Even so, she'd had to pad the armor out in a few places, and her mom had helped her cinch it in tighter in the waist.

She looked down at the now ordinary pleather and plastic armor and plastic sword. "I should've gone with the Power Girl outfit instead..."

"Huh?" Xander looked up from where he was consoling a crying kid.

"_Nothing!_ Nothing."

Angel approached them, his face the kind of blank only someone barely keeping down a grin could have. "Willow came through."

Xander nodded, looking over at where Oz and Willow were talking quietly, with Willow blushing and giggling and talking animatedly about, from the looks of it, animal crackers. "Yeah." Then he glanced at Buffy. "They...they make a cute couple, don't they?"

Her heart went out to him, but she felt so awkward, she couldn't say it. "Yeah."

He nodded, staring at the ground a little. "Well, at least she, she's happy, right?"

She would have gone over there and hugged him, but Angel draped an arm over his shoulder before she could get there and spoke to him in a quiet voice. While she could have eavesdropped, she didn't.

It hurt a little, that this Angel guy with his unclear and possibly gay motives had Xander's ear so easily.

Standing up, she cricked her back, popping vertebrae back into place, or at least feeling like she did. "Okay, let's get these kids back to their parents and then go talk to Giles."

The guys nodded at her and helped her round the bawling children up. And all the while her mind was a flurry of questions. Did he like her like that? _Could_ he like her like that? What if he never stopped being hung up on Willow? Just what was Angel's _deal? _

...also, Spike had screamed like a falsetto singer when she stabbed him there. Useful information, even vamps cared about their, ah, groinal areas. As for the sword, maybe Giles could find her a makhaira to practice with? The weight and size of it _had_ been kinda nice...

.

* * *

.

The warehouse was quiet. Mostly. The henchmen had been dismissed for the next few days, and only Drusilla was there. The warehouse _was _quiet, but for the occasional wailing groan of pain.

Drusilla stroked her lover's hair as he cried out his anguish. "There, there. They'll grow back, love. Miss Edith tells me they only got you in trouble anyway..."

He spared her an angry glare, then winced and buried his face in her lap again. "Oh, bloody hells...I'm going to _kill_ that Slayer if it's the _last_ thing I ever do..."

She smiled sympathetically, stroked his hair, and inwardly sighed, because there would be no sex for at least a _month_ after this. Not until his testes grew back. _If _they grew back. Oh well. He'd be a lot calmer for a while, at least. Righteous anger aside.

.

* * *

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**Night of Monday, November 3rd, 1997.**

"_I can see the stars."_

_Buffy looks up, and sees Xander seated on a crypt. He's wearing a jester's cap and too-tight shirt and trousers. "What do they say?"_

"_They want to know if you're ready."_

_She frowns. They're in the library now, and Giles and Willow are cataloging antfarms. Behind them, Tony Harris is slowly dancing with someone she can't quite make out, but it's not Xander's mom._

"_Ready for what?"_

_She turns back to Xander, now standing on the vinyl floor dressed in a black suit and tie. A darkhaired beauty smiles at her, holding his arm possessively. "Y'can't have him, dearie. Blood is thicker than water."_

_The woman's accent is kind of like Giles', only a bit more...common. She's oddly familiar-looking, too. The woman drags Xander away into a sudden crowd of people, and Buffy follows._

"_Don't. You can't go there." Angel holds out a hand in her path, delaying her._

_She glares at him. "You don't know me."_

_He shakes his head. "If you follow, he will stumble and you will fall."_

_It hurts, and she looks down. Her dress is stained with red. "He has my heart."_

_Angel smiles, gently. "The stars aren't singing yet."_

_The brunette woman appears again, her face that of a vampire, mouth dripping blood, Xander a ragdoll in her arms. _

_She grins cruelly. "I always wanted me a brother."_

.

Buffy opened her eyes. Huh. Interesting. Last dream she had with Xander, he wore considerably less clothes.

Sighing, she flipped on the light, picked up her bedside notebook, wrote down as much as she remembered, then flipped the light back off and turned on her side, burrowing under the covers.

The next dream, he wasn't wearing much clothes again. And neither was she. But that one was an old favorite, and quite familiar.

.

* * *

.

Willow stared at the lined graph paper and frowned. No, if you switched the current over to _this_ side, you could get...and that would...yeah. Okay. Oz would maybe appreciate this. If she could crank his amp up another step...she almost giggled. This one would go to _eleven._

She glanced over to the darkened corner of the library where Xander was talking quietly to Angel. She could almost make out what they were saying, but she couldn't _look_ like she was eavesdropping...

"...sure?"

"Yeah. I should have staked her right there, but I didn't know if she had any minions with her, and there was a kid still in the area."

"Worth the risk, maybe. Still. Whaddya think they're up to?"

"No clue. But if they're both in the same town as her and they're not fighting, that suggests they're _working_ together, and that's a lot worse. Spike and Dru alone are almost unstoppable, but they never have any funds to fuel their plans. Spike wastes it on useless crap and presents for Dru. Peggy's got a _lot_ of money squirreled away, though..."

"You keep calling her that. I thought her name was Pijavica?"

Angel smirked. "_She_ calls herself Pijavica. It's just an old word for a female vampire in the Prague area. Her _real_ name is Margaret Bumstead. She's from the Isle of Man, originally. Nest turned her in the mid 16th century, and she's been riding local vampire myths wherever she's gone ever since."

Xander stared at him, then started giggling uncontrollably. "B-B-_Bum_stead!?"

Angel's smirk became a grin. "She _hates_ her old name, did I mention that?"

Xander kept giggling like a loon and Angel kept grinning as the doors opened and Buffy entered.

"Hey, Buffster!" Xander waved, then whispered something to Angel that had the older man's shoulders shaking with barely held-back laughter.

She gave them an odd look, then shook her head. "So, what's the score? Any boogedy-men or monsters I don't know about?" She grimaced. "Except Chucklehead and Mr Giggles over there."

"Hey!"

Giles didn't look up. "Well, no, but we _have_ gotten confirmation, of sorts, that Pijavica is indeed working with Spike and, and Drusilla."

She raised an eyebrow, then turned her attention back to Angel. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I came across Dru in the playground a couple blocks from..." The vampire glanced at Xander, but didn't elaborate. "Anyway, I stopped her from killing a kid but I didn't dare do more than that. Spike rarely lets her go out without backup. Anyway, she rambled about Mother Dearest, that's Peggy-"

"Peggy Bumstead!" Xander was giggling hysterically again, and Angel spared him a brief crooked grin.

"..._Pijavica_, and something about stone men and separating the mortal from the chaff."

"Oh. So, nothing solid?"

Giles looked up from the book of demonology he was holding. "Afraid not."

Xander was grinning. "Though we found out her real name. Peggy-"

"...Bumstead, I get it." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Hilarious. If that's all, maybe we should get to class?"

.

Class...was history. Listening to the teacher try to teach them about the French Revolution was kinda boring, but the mood was lightened a bit by Cordelia completely getting the whole thing wrong, empathizing with the people who, if you looked at it cynically, kinda deserved getting their heads chopped off.

Only Cordy would find more empathy with a shallow airhead than with starving masses.

More productively, Buffy exchanged notes with Willow throughout the whole thing. As usual, the conversation circled around her love life, or lack of one. Though it soon became clear that something else was up.

_I think the vamps are way 2 into X._

_-Really? Y do U think that?_

_Because Deadguy almost let slip he caught Dru near X house, and they've been all over him b4. I think DG knows something._

_-U don't trust him?_

_No duh? Every Tom Dick and Harry Vampire we meet try 2 kidnap X. I think Hairgel Man knows why._

_-Gonna confront him?_

_DG? Nah. Besides, X seems clueless._

_-Don't he always?_

She gave Willow a grin, then crumpled up the notebook page they'd been sharing scribbled sentences on.

But Willow had a point. Xander was way too shy and clueless, and Buffy, well, she never gave up once she set her mind on someone. A string of broken hearts back in Hemery could attest to that. Sometimes she wondered just _why_ he was so shy, though. As Willow put it, he'd been on the dinner list for most of the girls at school for a few years now, and yet he kept acting like he was Mr Unpopular.

It was almost like...

Nah. She was just being paranoid. Had to be.

In any case, she wasn't gonna just sit back and wait for him to get it. She'd made herself clear, and now all she had to do was make sure he knew she wasn't giving up just because he had issues. _Everyone _had issues. Heck, she _died_. Talk about issues, huh? She was about to tell Willow so, when someone she wouldn't have even _dreamed_ of seeing again showed up and made a crack about seeing her in braces.

Billy Fordham.

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* * *

.

It was funny about paranoia. The old saying went, it's not paranoia if they're _really_ out to get you.

Willow did not trust Ford. Not even slightly. He seemed nice and all, but nothing added up. Like how he wasn't attending any classes, even if supposedly he had transferred. Even _Xander _went to classes every now and then. Or how Ford seemed totally dismissive of Xander at first, then the morning after he was all buddy-buddy and friendly.

So she told Angel, and Giles, and tried to tell Buffy. Not that it worked. Giles thought she was exaggerating, Buffy went on the defensive, and Angel...went way too suspicious when she mentioned how Ford was with Xander.

Still, at least he helped, even if he almost blew their cover at the goth club.

.

"You're idiots."

The girl named 'Chantrelle' – and wasn't that a mushroom? Willow wondered – paled even further and frowned. "You're not a believer."

Angel rolled his eyes. "You kids have _no _clue what a real vampire is. What, you read Anne Rice and thought they're all aristocrats in frilly shirts looking like Tom Cruise in a blonde wig? That they're somehow sexy and cool? Your worst _serial killer _has nothing on the average vampire. If you think _that's_ hot, you have _serious_ mental deficiencies. Might as well start drooling over pictures of Charles Manson."

It devolved from there, and she had to drag the reluctant vampire out of the club. At least they got what they came for.

Ford really _wasn't_ what he was pretending to be. Trouble was breaking it to Buffy and Xander, especially since Buffy didn't trust Angel farther than Willow could throw him.

.

* * *

.

Buffy stared at the notebook page and frowned.

Okay. Two options. One, tell Xander honestly that Billy was just an old friend she had crushed on years ago. Upsides were: honesty, and showing a bit of trust towards Xander. Downsides: Xander might get complacent.

Two, suggest to Xander that Billy was still an option. Upsides, Xander might get jealous and make a move. Downsides...it was kind of mean. Something she would have done back in Hemery.

...in fact, she _had _done that a few times, with different boys, and it never really ended well in the long run.

Damn it. Being a good person was more effort than it should be.

Buffy sighed. Time to talk to them. And let them know Billy already knew about her being the Slayer...

.

* * *

.

"I don't get it." Spike leaned back in his chair, frowning. "The boy's an idiot, and we could pretty much grab Angel's little favorite lad any time, so why bother with the charade?"

Pijavica smiled. "That was always your problem, William. You never think things _through._ You ensnare people with well-chosen words, but you never plan. No patience. You never savor the _hunt."_ She rose from her seat, and glided across the floor, pausing only to caress Drusilla's cheek in passing. When she reached the table by the wall, she picked up an old book from the pile there. "I hunted rabbits when I was but a girl. Did you know that? With bow and arrow, for firearms were still rare in those days. They are quick, but a man can run them down if they move straight. So they don't. They, ah, _zig-zag_."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Well, that's all very _fascinating_, but what's it got to do with _us_?"

Pijavica turned, still smiling. "The trick, I found, unless you manage to surprise them, is to tire them out. Not _too_ much, the meat gets unpleasant then. But just enough to let you take them easily with a single arrow. I usually used a blunted one, the kind one uses for birds. Stuns them but doesn't harm the skins. Then you wring the neck, skin them and hang them to ripen." Her smile widened, and her face morphed into her true visage. "See, what you do is _chase_ them, this way and that, then let them think they escaped. And the meat becomes _oh_ so succulent..."

Drusilla was frowning. Spike glanced at her and wished, not for the first time, that Pijavica didn't have them by the proverbial balls. He looked at the book. Something on magic. "So, what, you're hounding the Slayer?"

Pijavica threw her head back and laughed. Bloody drama queen. "Oh, _Spike,_ whatever would I do with a filthy little _Slayer?_ I just want her out of the _way_. No, no, my prize is _far_ more interesting. Tell him, Drusilla dear..."

Drusilla's frown deepened, but a smile played on her lips in spite of it. "Daddy told her no too many times, so she wants my sweet little brother. Daddy's little secret."

Spike blinked, then managed to decipher it. "Hang on. We got another member of the Aurelius get? Since when?"

Pijavica leaned towards him, showing off her cleavage. "The Aurelius line? Oh, there's one or two more about. Children of _Angel_? This _particular_ one, since round about sixteen, seventeen years ago..."

He stared at her, then the old blurry polaroid picture taken of a boy strung up in ropes above a familiar-looking stage. He stared at it. Then at Pijavica. Then Drusilla, who simply nodded. Then back at the picture. Finally, back at Pijavica. _Peggy._ Her name was Peggy. Bloody hell, she was even making _him_ think that stupid name now...

"...you putting me on?"

Pij_...Peggy_ leaned back, giggling softly. "Oh no, Spike. I never joke about _family..."_

.

* * *

.

She tried to hate him. Even now, as he was smirking at her smugly and pretending he was the cleverest villain ever. But she couldn't. Not him. Not Ford. Not even after this.

"Look, I'm sorry for you. But I'm not going to let you get all these people killed, even if they're idiots."

Myconia – or whatever her name was – looked offended. "Hey!"

"I don't see how you'll stop me." Ford's smirk only faltered slightly.

"She's Buffy. Of _course_ she'll stop you."

She threw a warm look at Xander. "Aww...uh, just keep back a little. Try to get the Morons In Black to gather behind you, 'kay?"

Ford glanced over there, then at his watch. "Whatever. They'll be here soon, and I'll be immortal."

"No you won't. It'll _talk_ like you, _walk_ like you, _pretend_ it's you...but it won't _be_ you." She sighed. "Do you really hate your family that much?"

He frowned. "What?"

Buffy shrugged. "I know a few things about vampires. I know that one of the first things most of them do is go hunt down every single person who ever loved and cared for them and kill them. Heck, I know one who personally murdered his entire family the very same night he came back from the dead. You must really despise your parents if you want that to happen to them."

Ford looked ill at ease for the first time. "It-it's worth it."

"Really? You look forward to when the demon wearing your body snaps your dad's neck? When it eats your mom and your big sister? Where is she now, by the by, college?"

"Shut up."

"Nice way to thank the people who raised you. Maybe it'll get _creative,_ even. Maybe it'll turn your parents and your sister too. Then they'll turn around and kill a whole bunch of other people. One big happy family of soulless mass murderers."

She knew she was getting to him. All she could hope for was him getting the point in _time_.

"Shut up!" He was looking nauseous now. "You have no clue what it's _like,_ knowing you're going to-"

Buffy laughed. "_I _have no idea what knowing I'm going to _die_ is like? _Really_? I was _sixteen_ when I was told I was gonna die and the world would end because of it. I _would_ be, too, if not for good friends and allies. So _I _have no idea? _You_ have no idea. Yeah, you dying from cancer is a shitty way to go, and I do feel sorry for you. I was drained by a vampire and then drowned. But that doesn't excuse killing innocent people for your own survival. Heck, it doesn't excuse _letting_ innocent people die for your own survival."

The door opened, and the whole thing became moot.

.

Spike wasn't the first down the stairs, of course. He never took point unless he had to. Instead he sent two underlings ahead, and while Buffy dusted them both easily the brief fight was enough for the _rest_ of the demons to enter.

"Grab the lad, kill the rest."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "_Seriously_? What _is_ it with you and vampires, Xander?"

He grinned. "Can I help it I'm so irresistible? I even tried not bathing, but nope."

She wrinkled her nose even as she staked another one, watching it turn to dust in front of her. "Okay, _ew_. And keep back."

"Well, I've bathed _now_..." Raising the collar of his shirt he sniffed it demonstratively.

"Not what I meant." She smiled, though. And then spotted her opening.

Using one vamp as a springboard she flipped up and over the vampires heading for the goth kids behind her, and landed...right behind the oddly familiar-looking brunette in the archaic dress. She grabbed the girl and found to her surprise that _this_ vampire was oddly _weak_. Funny, she only went for her because Spike kept covering the girl's flank...

Right, time to see if Spike cared about anything other than his own neck "Back off, or Little Bo Peep here gets it."

"_Stop!_" Whoa. Spike was looking _terrified_, for once. "Everyone, back off, _now!_"

The vampires below, having barely even begun to bite, let go of the few they'd separated from the flock. Xander took the opportunity to kick one of the vamps in the shins, only to back away hastily as it snarled at him with vamp-face. He took the girl the vamp had been about to nosh on with him to relative safety, though. Buffy gave a mental nod at this. Good thinking. Distract it, make it shift targets.

So _this_ was Drusilla, huh? Buffy held onto the whimpering vampire girl a little more firmly, holding her stake at the ready. "Let us all go, or your girlfriend here is gonna fit in an ashtray."

Without hesitating, Spike called out to his underlings. "Let them leave."

One of the vampires frowned. "But, Spike-"

Without looking, Spike retorted. A hand whipped out, knocking the vampire out. "_Now_."

There were no more protests. And in the end, Ford stayed behind.

His choice.

But as she and Xander left with the hapless wannabes, Spike smirked at her. "You know who your little boy there really is?"

The words kept bugging her all night and day after, even unto the point where she staked Ford's undead self crawling out of his grave. And she kept remembering Giles' sarcastic little joke about white and black hats long after she went home to cry that night, and kept wondering if it was an allusion to the creepy Angel and his penchant for black.

...or maybe about Xander.

.

* * *

.

**Monday, November 10th, 1997.**

It was all a coincidence, really.

Buffy had set up an afternoon meet with Willow and Xander, making sure Willow knew to conveniently be 'busy' elsewhere. A dinner coupon for her mom's favorite restaurant and a suggestion to show Oz a good time helped.

She was all set, she'd picked out a casual yet stylish outfit, had her hair done nicely, and made sure she had a few ideas for the day. First, lunch. Then tire him out shopping. Then, when his resistance was worn down...well, she wasn't sure what then, but she had a few ideas for that too.

It would have worked, too, if it wasn't for that pesky demon.

.

Halfway through her calisthenics set, Xander and some old British guy slammed through the doors yelling for help.

Well, more accurately the British guy called out for Giles, Giles sputtered and stuttered, and Xander yelled "Demon! Zombie demon!"

Buffy put up with it for roughly five seconds before she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a whopper of a whistle. "Hey!"

Silence fell as they all turned to look at her, wide-eyed. After a few moments of confusion, Giles smiled innocently. "Er, yes?"

"What. Is. The _drama_?"

He looked sheepish. "I, uh, this is, this is Philip. He's an old friend of mine."

"And there was a zombie demon chasing him!" This came from Xander, who seemed a bit freaked out still.

"Zombie demon?" She looked at the man called Philip, who ignored her and instead looked at Giles.

"Eyghon has returned."

To her great shock, Giles almost _staggered_ back, pale as snow. "I-I-I see. Th-that's...unfortunate."

Philip took a shuddering breath. "It, it took Deirdre. She...it was here, in the hallway. If not for this boy, I, I would have-"

Giles nodded, his mind obviously somewhere else. "Yes, that's, he's handy."

As she was about to ask who Egon was and how British guys could apparently stammer in stereo, the doors slammed open and a freaky creature from beyond the grave stood there. It was smirking.

"_Rupert. How lovely. The old gang's all here."_

...huh. Even vampires usually weren't this...erudite. "This the one, Xand?"

"Yeah!" She didn't spare him a glance, but she did spare him a smile.

"Buffy, don't!"

Ignoring Giles she vaulted over the table, grabbing a sword on the way. The demon turned its head towards her with an odd, bird-like movement, and smiled even as the sword started the arc towards its head.

A half-rotted hand whipped out and seized the sword in mid-air. _"A Slayer. Such friends you've made since last we met, Rupert..."_

"...uh..." Another half-gooey fist came out of nowhere, knocking her back, right towards-

She landed on top of Xander in an undignified heap, and she probably would have appreciated the situation more if Xander hadn't smacked his head on the nearby bookshelf and passed out. Pausing only briefly to check his pulse and breathing, she hopped back up, looking for another weapon.

The demon zombie thing was looking at the sword as if it was completely amazing and new, then shrugged and tossed it aside with enough force to embed it in a wall. Not too hard to do, the walls here were all plaster and drywall, but still. _Looked_ neat.

Right. No underestimating the big bad demon.

Softening it up by throwing two heavy wooden chairs at it she crossed the room in a blink of an eye, grabbing the ax Giles had so many times refused to train her in, then dropped and slid along the floor the last few feet, ax swinging around and – chop.

The demon fell as the legs were severed at the knees, hitting the hardwood floor with the most disgusting _splat _Buffy had ever seen.

"Ew." She backed up a few steps as goo oozed out of the now lifeless demon, spreading across the floor. "Anyone got a mop and bucket?"

Without her noticing, the ooze slithered across the floor with an almost single-minded purpose, towards the sole unconscious person in the room.

Suddenly, Xander sat up. "What?"

Buffy turned, confused but relieved. "Xander! You okay?"

He frowned. "Huh? No – what? Hey! Get – get out of my – not again, not again, not _again_ – get out! _Get out!_"

She watched to her horror as his face twisted, morphing into something like the demon she'd just made shorter. _"Oh, this is...the sheer potential! I'm going to enjoy this-"_

"No!" His face shifted back. "Oh, God, Buffy, there's something – get out of my head!"

Shifting again, the demon face leered. _"No, I __**like**__ it in here. Oh, boy, do you even understand? Do you even know what you are?"_

It shifted again, and again, morphing and twisting sickeningly as Xander screamed in agony, until suddenly a cloud of dark dust poured out of his eyes and mouth and nose, then dissipating into nothing. Xander staggered, then fell to the floor, out cold again.

.

* * *

.

Rupert Giles sat in his chair in his kitchen and stared at the bottle. He hadn't opened it since he'd poured a glass for Philip earlier, who was now sleeping soundly in the guest room.

He wanted to, though. Wanted to open it again, and drink until he stopped thinking.

Eyghon. After all this time, Eyghon had returned, and killed several of Rupert's old friends on its path to the US and revenge. Was it bad of him that a part of him wished Ethan had been the first to go?

No, Ethan was an arse, but Eyghon was...it had been 'Ripper' who'd first suggested it, after all. His fault. Four people dead, including Simon that first time. Four people dead, because young Rupert Giles had been a self-centered little berk who didn't care _what_ he summoned up for his next hit.

Old sins. Old sins, and old secrets, God, how he loathed the secrets.

Well, at least the demon was gone for good. Unable to exist without a host...

...and Xander had somehow evicted it from his body. That shouldn't have been _possible_. No _normal _human could simply _evict _a discorporate entity like Eyghon, not without an exorcism and immense training of the will.

The doorbell rang. He wanted to ignore it, but finally got up, shambled to the front hall and opened.

Angel stood outside.

"Hi. Can I come in?"

Giles almost said yes, but something gave him pause. "Er...no. Is it, is it important?"

The vampire looked to the side almost casually, then smiled softly. Then there was a flash of metal, and a cold blade pressed against Rupert's neck. "Just because I can't come in doesn't mean you're _safe._ And the next time one of your 'youthful indiscretions' comes back to haunt us and hurts Xander, I _will_ kill you."

For a moment, Rupert just stood there, shocked. The vampire was still outside, and no part of his body was across the threshold...except the blade of the sword. He tried to swallow, but the tip of the blade was right at the Adam's apple, and so he only managed a little choked-up noise.

The sword hung there for a moment, then was lowered. Angel smiled, almost cheerfully. "Keep that in mind."

Then he was gone, melting into the darkness outside as if he was never there. Rupert rubbed the sore spot on his throat, wiping away a single drop of blood. "Yes. I, I'll do that."

Then he closed the door and went inside to call Buffy.

.

* * *

.

_Do you even know what you are?_

Xander stared at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. He'd showered three times since he came home, and would have showered more if Tony hadn't yelled at him to quit using up the hot water.

He still felt dirty. _Filthy_. Like a thin, slimy veneer of grease and dust covered every cell of his body, pooling near the stomach.

It hadn't been like the hyena. The hyena had been all dark temptations, twisted animal greed and power battering at his thoughts like a giant outside the gates of an old crumbling castle.

_Do you even know what you are?_

No. No, he didn't. But he was starting to wonder. The hyena. Remembering every single thing of the soldier he never was without it showing even a _hint_ of fading away. The fact that, as Buffy pointed out, vampires seemed to home in on _him_ constantly.

_You know who your little boy there really is?_

No, he _didn't_ know what he was. Or _who_ he was.

And it was really starting to scare him.

.

* * *

.

**A/N 2: **Pteryges = lit. "feathers", it's the name for the feather-like design of the leather armor epaulettes used in ancient era warrior's skirts, shoulder guards and helmet side-guards by both the ancient Greeks and Romans. Instead of saying Wonder Woman should wear a "Hoplite skirt", it should probably rightly be a "pteryges skirt" (or "pteruges"). Amazons aren't Hoplites (more likely they were Sauromatians). *grin*

Makhaira = ancient Greek forward-curved single-edged sword, looks a little like a _very _large, slightly slimmer khukri-blade.

...and is it just me, or is Xander starting to influence Angel as well? (grin)


End file.
